Girl of the Rogue
by Rogue Angel 715
Summary: Nyah, a 15 year old girl, is all on her own, but with a special Gift. However, just when she thinks she is finally getting her life under control, her past comes back to haunt her and she'll have to do something she never thought she'd do. PLEASE R&R!!!!
1. Thief Girl

Chapter 1  
  
A man ran swiftly through the streets of Corus, dodging people easily. No one paid him any attention as people were always rushing in the busy capital. The man didn't break his stride until he reached an inn. The sign that hung above the entrance read the Dancing Dove. As he went in, he was surrounded with life. It seemed as though all the men and women of the lower city were crowded into the little common room, laughing and talking and drinking the day away. Music was coming from somewhere and a beautiful young woman who was clad rather scandalously was dancing amid a circle of men who were whistling and tossing coins at her feet.  
  
However, not even a dancing girl could derive the man of his mission as he walked past her and towards the back of the inn. Here there was less activity, as a woman and a few men sat at a table by a large fireplace. The woman was sitting on one man's lap, giggling as he whispered something to her. He was a tall and muscular, with short brown hair and rather handsome hazel eyes. As the man who had been in such a hurry to get to the Dancing Dove approached the table, he bowed and said, "Majesty, I must speak with you." The man who was so flirtatious with the busty young woman on his lap only a moment ago, became serious. He nodded and motioned for the other men to leave to he could speak to the runner in private. The young woman stood, and with a wink to the two men, turned and melted into the crowd of people.  
  
"Take a seat, Eric," the "Majesty" said. Eric sat and an old man came and poured him a tankard full of ale. "Thanks, Solom," Eric regarded the old man who nodded and stepped back to attend others. "So," the hazel-eyed man said as he took a swig of his own ale and set his tankard on the table. "What's on your mind, my friend?"  
  
"George, it's happened again," Eric said in an undertone. "Another robbery without notice."  
  
"Another?" George, the King of the Court of the Rogue, asked in disbelief. "That's the third one this month!"  
  
Eric nodded. "I know. Word is that this time someone went into my Lord Provost's home himself! Nicked a few quality weapons, some jewels, and some other expensive little trinkets and wasn't even caught."  
  
George pondered this. He certainly wouldn't send one of the Rogue, a group of lower city thieves and pickpockets, to rob any noble's manor without at least a few extra men, and definitely not the Lord Provost's manor. He didn't even think anyone in the Rogue was that good, except for him and a few of his friends. He'd heard that security around the lawman's home was impeccable. "Do you think it was anyone sealed to the Rogue?" Eric asked him.  
  
George shook his head. "I don' think it could've been. No one with sense in his head would try to rob my Lord Provost alone, 'specially one sealed to the Rogue. And I certainly didn' approve anythin' like that, so unless someone's going behind my back. And they know the penalty for that," he said pointedly.  
  
Eric shuddered and his hand automatically moved toward his ears. The "king" was famous for three things: his way of dealing with troublemakers of the Rogue, his sharp daggers and his ear collection. George sighed. "All right, well thanks Eric. I'll see if I can find out anythin' else."  
  
"Same here," Eric told him. The young runner stood and walked off to see some of his friends, leaving George with a lot more to think about.  
  
That night as George got ready for bed, he was thinking about the robberies. Obviously, not all of the thieves of Corus were sealed to the Rogue; there were a few of them out there who went their own ways. However, in the past month, things had been stolen from all over Corus, and in places only an idiot would go. The sliver mines on the outskirts of the city, the counting house, he ticked them off one by one. All of those places had double guard shifts. A very skilled idiot, George thought to himself. He'd have to be not to get caught. But stealing from the Lord Provost's manor was just plain insanity.  
  
Another question that weighed on his mind was whether or not the person came from the Rogue. All the work they did had to be approved by George, unless it was something small like pick pocketing, but even the young ones could do that. If they did come from the Rogue, he could have a very large problem on his hands. After all, what would his subjects say if he couldn't control the way the Rogue went? He could have a major uprising and he wasn't about to let that happen.  
  
Sighing, he climbed into bed with one final thought in his head. Whoever this person was, he needed to find him and quick. Not only should he be warned about the dangers of the Lord Provost, but who knew? He might even be a new addition to the Rogue.  
  
* * *  
  
There were many streets and roads in Corus, all leading to different places, from homes, to businesses, to markets, to the Palace. Some were wide and bustled with people and carts; others were small and dark. Not many people traveled down these roads for it was said that there were some that would rob you blind if you went down them.  
  
One girl however, was not in the least bit afraid of going down these dark back alleys. In fact, she went down them everyday and she could tell people that not everything they had said about those alleys was true. They definitely were dark and damp, with garbage that littered the soiled cobblestone road. Rats crawled among the trash, looking for their next meal. However, there weren't too many that would rob you blind if given the chance. From the very first day she had take these roads, these dark and gloomy pathways, she had seen that the only ones that lived here, were those too poor to live anywhere else and too prideful to take advantage of the homeless shelters that King Roald had set up. The blind men would sit in the doorways, the lame and the scroungers all would get together to build a fire and cook whatever they could find that day.  
  
This particular day, the girl walked down the little alley just like she had always done, leading her chestnut mare, which was wearing only an old leather bridle and reins, behind her. She smiled and waved to an old lady dressed in rags, standing around a tiny fire with a few others. "Hello, Grandmother," she called. Though the woman wasn't really her grandmother that was all the girl ever called her.  
  
"Well looka here!" the elderly woman smiled, revealing a mouth that had only a few teeth in it. "Nyah child, what you been up to lately, younglin'?"  
  
"Nothin' much," Nyah replied. "How've you been?"  
  
The old woman grinned grimly. "The same, child, the same."  
  
Nyah grinned and reached into her pack. When she took out a loaf of bread, and held it out to the woman, she nearly gave a childish squeal of delight. "Oh my! Oh my goodness, Nyah! Oh! Oh! Thank ye, thank ye! How on earth can I ever repay ye, angel child?"  
  
"Just eat it Grandmother," Nyah said, blushing at the praise, specifically being called "angel child".  
  
"Oh Mirthos and Goddess bless you child, Mirthos and Goddess bless!" She took the bread and ran back to the rest of the people at the fire and carefully began tearing it up into equal pieces and passing them out.  
  
Nyah smiled and continued on her way. She walked to the end of the alley until she came to a tall fence with a locked old gate with rusty hinges that would creak loudly if anyone tried to open it. This part of the alley was abandoned; no one wanted to come this far back. Checking to make sure no one was watching, the girl mumbled something under her breath and emerald fire spouted from her finger tips, making the old gate slide open without a sound. She quietly led her horse Thunder through the gate. When she passed through, she was in an old storage lot. There was junk all around, rusted old metal pieces and mottled boards of wood, all grown over in weeds and grass that no one had bothered to trim. In the middle of the lot, was a shack, big enough for storage- or for Nyah to live. Outside the door was a fire pit, lined with stones. To the right of the shack was a cleared patch of grass. She took the bridle off Thunder and rubbed her down with an old cloth. That done, Nyah pulled a rabbit out of her pack, along with another tightly wrapped loaf of bread. With a flick of her hand, she sent emerald flames into the pit and soon she had a blazing fire going, with a skinned and cleaned rabbit roasting over it. She ate quickly and alone, cutting off the heels of the small loaf to give to Thunder, her only companion. After she was done, she let the fire dye down, and lay on her back watching the stars, thinking about what she used to be and what she had become.  
  
People would think it was strange to see such young girl, no more than fifteen, all on her own, but all they had to do was ask her if she could shoot the longbow that she carried with her at all times to know that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. After all, anyone that could sight game and bring it down a hundred yards away wasn't the type of person you wanted to mess with. The most anyone could do, (and did), was look at the pitiful teenager with her chin-length blond hair and deep green eyes, the same green as her magic, was laugh or stare and mummer that such looks were wasted on a poor little nobody.  
  
But, she thought time and time again, after all it wasn't her fault she was a nobody. And it wasn't her fault that the Crooked God had blessed her with her Gift, was it? After all, the gods were known to become angry, when you didn't use what talents and Gifts they had given you. And she used it to the best of her knowledge, having never been taught anything before. After all, her mother-  
  
She stopped her train of thought there, and shook her head. No, she told herself firmly, you swore that you wouldn't do that anymore. Just remember, you're not a nobody, you're not a nobody.  
  
And even if she was a nobody, she was a talented one, she thought with a grin. After all, who else could break into the Lord Provost's manor and take what she'd like? She grew up in the country, and when she came to the city, she had heard that no one could get past him. To her it sounded like a challenge, and that was one thing she could never turn down. The Crooked God hadn't given her a large gift; she couldn't heal and she could control weather and the like. The most she could do was start fires. With a little extra on the side, she thought with another grin. In addition to the fires, her magic was able to pick any lock and silence her movements and what she moved, so it seemed as though she was a ghost, or just another part of the night.  
  
She smiled to herself as she thought about her last big haul. My Lord Provost has some really nice things, she thought. Although I think his taste in art is a bit too classical. You don't get a very good price for it in Smithton. That was how she worked, taking a bit of art here, some jewels there and a little weaponry to top it all off. Nyah would take it and go to a far off town that the owners wouldn't even think of looking; sometimes she'd travel as far as Galla or Tusaine. What she didn't sell she'd barter until everything, except for a few choice items, were gone and she was left with some gold coins and some things like material for new tunics and breeches. She always found that these and her sturdy leather boots were much more practical not to mention comfortable than those fancy dresses and surcoats that the noble ladies and commoners wore.  
  
The gold coins that she had left over, she used to buy things like some steel arrowheads that she would tie onto her arrows, instead of the usual sharpened sticks. The steel was razor sharp and would pierce armor if need be, although Nyah hoped it wouldn't come to that. The rest of the money she kept, saving for things she might need. My boots are starting to pinch my toes, she thought. And Thunder needs a new bridle; the other one's fraying. And a new coil of rope wouldn't be half bad either considering I lost the other one the last time I went down to Goldenlake.  
  
The call of a nighttime bird shook her from her thoughts. Yawning, she realized that the fire had died down to glowing green embers. She was tired after her two daylong ride back from Smithton. Getting up, she took her long bow and her quiver full of arrows inside the shack with her, and lit a candle. After a moment, she undressed and blew it out and, with a final yawn and a quick prayer to the Mother and the Crooked God, she fell asleep. 


	2. A New Goddess

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

That night, Nyah had a very strange dream. She was part of the very night sky that she had just been looking at, just floating there looking around at all the beautiful stars and planets. Suddenly, shooting stars began to fall all over, as if it were raining them. In one particular area, they flowed downward like a waterfall. Then even more strangely, they parted in the middle and a beautiful young woman stepped out. She was too beautiful to be human, and Nyah stared in a mixture of awe and fear. At first, she whispered, "Goddess," but then realized that this was not the Mother. She looked to be younger than the Goddess, and her features were different. Her hair was black as night, but stood out because of the solid backdrop of falling stars. Her eyes were a strange; they flashed different colors when the light hit them at different angles. She was so beautiful; her nose was just the right size, her face was perfect in every way, right down to her lush red lips.She was tall, taller than most young women, and she wore a flowing midnight blue robe with a silver sash. On her head was a crown of stars only these were golden. 

Seeing Nyah, she smiled. "Hello, my young sister," she said. Her voice sounded like a river flowing, steady and strong, and of wind whispering through the trees. It was so beautiful that Nyah covered her ears, before realizing it was rude. "Do not be frightened," the Young Goddess continued. "I have come to help you, to warn you.

"The Crooked God has given you a Gift. You can open locks and make yourself as silent as a cat. You can steal a man blind, and yet whatever you steal you sell. I have seen what you have done, my young sister. You gave an old woman bread when it was to be yours. You care for you steed Thunder before you care for yourself. You have done well, even if stealing is how you must go about it. 

"But beware, my young sister! Things will not stay this way for long. I know you are content to live the rest of your life this way, but know this, in the time to come, you must confront your past!"

At this, Nyah stopped staring in wonder and spoke, "No please Young Goddess," she begged, "I'm fine where I am, please!"

The deity held up a hand commanding her to be silent. "Nyah, you cannot live in fear of your past or it will haunt you for the rest of your life. To confront your past, you will battle it in the days to come. Nyah, you will do many things; you're life will not stay as it is now. You will meet someone, and he will give you the chance to defeat your past once and for all. My young sister, I tell you, be brave and take this chance!"

She smiled once more and raised her hand if farewell. "I must go now," she told Nyah. "But if you ever need me, just ask. Good-bye for now, young sister." With that she began to fade into the curtain of falling stars.

"Wait, Young Goddess, wait! How can I confront my past? It's too hard! And how will I know when I've met this person who will help me? Wait, please!"

However, the Young Goddess continued to fade, but Nyah heard her last words: "You _can_ do it young sister! Find this person, and you can do it!"

***

The next morning, Nyah woke and dressed. She put on her white shirt, dark blue breeches, and her forest green tunic. The tunic was mid-thigh length and her put on her tall calf-high boots. She was thinking about her dream and almost forgot to put on her belt and dagger. Who was that? In the dream, she had called her "Young Goddess" but she had never heard of any deity with that name before. Come to think of it, the only gods she had ever heard of were, Mirthos, Goddess, the Crooked God, and the Black God. The Crooked God was her patron, or so she thought. He was the only one that she had ever actually gone and left a sacrifice in his temple before. _Maybe that's why I had to… _she stopped again and shook her head hard, abruptly. "No!" she said aloud. "It's been three, four years. Get over it! If the gods wanted what happened to be a punishment, it didn't work." Her anger grew. "Do you hear me?" she shouted up to the sky. "It didn't work!" In her fury, she threw a ball of emerald fire into the fire pit with such force that it literally exploded the wood and ash that had been left there after last night.

As she stared at the fire in anger, as soft whinny sounded by her ear, and Thunder laid her head Nyah's shoulder, trying to comfort the girl. When she felt her faithful horse next to her, her anger softened and a tear trickled down her cheek. "At least you love me," she told Thunder who rubbed up against the young woman, who gave a small smile. "And," she sniffed. "I don't care what that little Goddess said. I don't have to confront my past! Not if I don't want to." The mare gave a sympathetic whinny and the two of them walked out of the lot together to face another typical day in Corus. 

The first stop of the day was the local leatherworker's shop. In the lower city, if you wanted the job done right, you had to pay a bribe. You also couldn't be a shy little child when you walked in, so, checking to make sure that her longbow and arrows were secure on her back and her daggers were loose in their sheaths, she tied Thunder up and walked in. The leatherworker's shop was open air except for the back where the work was done. All around her, saddles, bridles, halters, and various other objects of leather hung around her. She knew better than to buy those though. Those were the kind that would fall apart when you first put them on your horse. If you wanted something done right, you had to have it custom made. 

"What'd ya want?" A big burly man stepped in front of Nyah, temporarily blocking her view. "Well?" the man said. "What'd ya want girlie?"

Nyah matched the big man's frankness with her own. She held the bridle out to him. "I need a new one, same size," she said. "And I want it custom made," she added. 

The man shook his head. He knew Nyah, but every time she came in, he treated her like every other faceless customer. However, he did serve her. Had he been anyone else, he would have laughed himself silly at this teenage girl, with a longbow on her back and dressed like a boy, asking for a bridle. "I don't do custom made," he said gruffly. "Here," he gestured at a bridle that was hanging on the wall. "Take that and pay up."

Nyah shook her head and held out four gold coins. "I'm willing to pay extra for custom made," she said. With a grunt, the man took the coins and headed towards the back calling, "It'll be ready by one. Get it then." With a sigh, Nyah walked out of the shop. 

Jumping on Thunder bareback, she decided that, since it would be awhile till one, she might as well go for a ride. Gripping her mare's mane, she and her horse trotted through the streets until they reached the gates. Passing through, she urged Thunder into a run, and girl and horse flew across the meadows. There wasn't anyone out there, everyone stayed on the roads heading into Corus, and none of them paid any attention to the girl riding off to the west. 

Nyah loved this. She always felt like she as if she were one with Thunder when she was riding bareback. She would lean low on her horse's neck, the black mane mixing with her blond hair and urge the mare faster and faster. She rode for a long time. When she finally stopped, she was at the edge of the Great Forest, her main hunting ground. Thunder was panting, but the horse never tired of running as fast as she could. Dismounting, Nyah led her mare to a stream in the Forest and let her lap up the water. She wiped

her down, then knelt next to her, took off her clothes, and jumped in the river. She was lucky her head was underwater; she it was so cold that her scream would've scared off all the game within a five mile radius. Her head broke the surface of the water and she swam around, enjoying the bath. It was rather deep in the middle of the river, about ten feet, and she dove down and opened her eyes. She saw fish swimming around her, wondering what this large thing was. Something tickled her feet and she turned to see little minnows nibbling her toes. Smiling under the water, she swam up and took a breath of air. 

When she came up, the flash of sun against the water blinded her for a moment. She closed her eyes against the glare and saw a picture against her eyelids. It was the Young Goddess from her dream, and there was someone with her. Nyah looked and in shock realized that it was the Thief, the Crooked God. She watched as she heard him say, "My child, I gave you power. Use it to confront your past!" He gestured to the Young Goddess. "Kiloa will help you, as will I. Find the one who will help you on earth!"

Nyah snapped her eyed open. She was still in the river, and Thunder was staring at her with a peculiar look in her eyes. Nyah sighed and swam back to shore. As she took a towel out of her pack, she dried off and dressed. Picking up her bow and quiver, she sighed. "I wish the gods were more straight forward," she told Thunder. The mare snorted in agreement. 


	3. Dangerous Plans

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_A.N. Thank you for being so patient with me for chapter 3. In light of recent, tragic events in our USA, I was unable to write because my next-door neighbor was in the WTC when it was hit. Thankfully he is all right and I thank God everyday that it's that way. Please pray for the people who didn't survive the attack and the victims' families. Thank you._

For the past month, Nyah had been in hiding, coming out of her fenced in area only when she needed to. Since the buildings were abandoned she would be fine for now, but she needed to get out of there. Lord Provost had sent out a full-scale search to find the criminal who had done so many things. She had seen the wanted notices, tacked on practically every pole and wall available in the city. Members of the Guard and the King's Own were out there, all searching for Nyah. Of course, no one would suspect a fifteen-year-old girl, at least for now. But Nyah was taking no chances. She had stolen some food from a stall and filled her canteens with water from the river outside of Corus. She had ventured out only when she needed to, and when she did, she always wore a hooded cloak and left Thunder at home, not daring to bring out the beautiful horse in case some one recognized the mare. 

In addition to hiding, she had drained herself of her magic for a day or two, silencing the whole yard with emerald green fire, visible only to her. Every inch of the area was covered in it, it had taken her a full day to try and make the impenetrable wall. When she finally succeeded, she passed out and didn't come around for a long while. When she did, she was so sick and tired that she couldn't eat anything for three days. Thunder was constantly whinnying and snorting, trying to get the girl to stand on her feet. 

One thing was for sure. She knew she was in over her head this time, and she had to get out of there before she ended up in the dungeons of Tortall like the others who had been arrested for her crimes.

***

George sat at a table in a private room at the Dancing Dove, with only a few close friends nearby.Compared to what it had been last month you would have thought some one had died. There was no more dancing, singing, laughing, drinking, nothing. Everyone of the Rogue had gone into hiding except for George and his friends. Since Lord Provost had been robbed, the security of the palace had spread all the way from the market place into the lower city. Rewards were to be given out to anyone with information on the robberies of the past year or so. There were some who would turn in their own brother for the five hundred gold nobles that was being offered.

So that night, George sat with Eric, the runner that had first brought him the news of Lord Provost, sat next to him while George's red-headed friend Marek sat on his left. In front of George was a strong looking man named Leon. All of them men were staring at the map of Corus on table with puzzled looks on their faces. On the map, were various marks in ink. "Ok," George said quietly. They couldn't afford to be found by anyone; his slight Gift was alert to any body that might be listening in keyholes. "They've hit the merchants, the countin' houses, the silver mines, and my Lord Provost," he said as he pointed to the X's on the map. Normally, they wouldn't track any other thief, but this was coming to grips with a vengeance. "They've kept quiet for awhile; nothin's been stolen for a month."

"You can't blame 'em," Marek said. "If my Lord Provost were lookin' for me, I'd get outta here faster than a jack rabbit."

"Do you think they've left?" the big man Leon asked. 

George shook his head. "No," he said. "Anyone with enough idiocy to rob Provost would probably stay around to see what happens. Were there any other clues?"

"Well," Marek said, "I heard from Stefan that the governor of Smithton was up in the Palace a week ago. Told my Lord Provost that a couple of his things were found in the area. The suspects swore that they didn' take anythin', said that they'd bought 'em from someone. So far, the only thing anyone's been able ta get straight is that the person had a big chestnut mare, really well cared for."

The men all sat in silence for a moment processing this information.

"What can we do?" Eric finally asked. "All we know for sure is that the man's got himself a nice chestnut horse. We've been pourin' over this map for two hours now, and we can't find nothin' that gives us any clue as to where he might hit next."

George sighed and set his mouth in a grim determined line. "Look all I know is six of our people have been turned in. Unless we find out who it is, we may never see 'em again. Now, think men! What would be the last place on earth where you would go to get some goods?"

The men all pondered this and slowly, they all looked at each other, and everyone's eyes zeroed in on the Palace. 

***

"This has got to be the _stupidest, most dim-witted _thing I have ever done," Nyah muttered to herself, as she looked over her various arrows. She winced as she tested one on her finger, and a drop of blood appeared on her skin from the sharp pointed steel tip of the head. "One things for sure. After this, I go straight." _If there is an after this,_ she thought grimly. 

As she finished checking her arrows, she went over again in her head about how on earth she was going to go about, sneaking in the palace unnoticed and steal what she needed. In midday, she was going to in, just like any other servant of the castle. If she covered herself in her cloak and pulled up the hood, with luck she wouldn't be seen. From there, she would wait until the cover of darkness could shelter her moves, about three hours after the last bells. Even the guards would be tired then. _I hope_, she thought nervously. Finally, she would work her way into the treasury and take some goods, enough to sell and get her out of the country, hopefully to Carthak or the Yamani Isles. She would make a new start there, fencing what she stole for a place to live and whatever other necessities she might need. 

It was just too dangerous for her to stay here anymore. Everywhere she turned, she was facing another guard, and all of them were on full alert. Thunder was getting anxious. She hadn't been out for a run in nearly a month, it was too risky to bring such a striking horse out into the open, especially since Lord Provost had put a description of her mare in the notice. Why, even today she wasn't taking any chances. She had rubbed dust into her mare's coat so you couldn't tell what her color really was. The mare had rejected this treatment profusely; Nyah had four nicks on her arms that she'd had to tend to because of Thunder. Still, it just wasn't worth staying anymore, not when she could seriously get tried and possibly killed. This was the only way out. _I guess Mum was right,_ she thought soberly. _I really don't belong anywhere._

__Sighing she shook her head. This was it; time to get ready to go. Standing up, she stripped herself of her usual peasant garb, and changed into her thief's outfit. Tight black breeches, and a loose black blouse to protect her from arrows. She slipped her brown belt around her thinner than usual waist, and placed freshly sharpened daggers in their two sheathes. She slipped another two into the hidden sheaths in her tall brown boots and tucked some throwing stars in little pockets inside the cuffs of her blouse. The last weapon she placed on her was her long bow and her quiver full of fletched, armor piercing arrows. Finally, over her blond hair, the only thing that contrasted rather sharply against the rest of her outfit, she tied a black headscarf over it. When nighttime came, she would look and sound just like a shadow, thanks to her magic and her clothes. 

Next she pulled out some saddlebags and tossed them onto her mat. Inside them, she tucked all she owned. A tightly wrapped bedroll, some dried fruit and goods for the trip, a hairbrush and a tooth cleaning kit, and her two tunics, shirts, and pairs of breeches went into one. In the other, she placed Thunder's oats, her currycomb, a small, one-person tent, and a coil of rope. 

Finally, she walked the corner of her shack and pulled back a plank of wood from the floor. Inside, was a hole in the dirt and a small gilded jewel box, no bigger than her hand, lay there. Carefully pulling it out, her fingertips shown green and strands of fire wrapped and twisted their way into the lock. With a click, the lock opened and Nyah pried the lid open. Glittering and shining inside the box, was a collection of gemstones and money. "My life's work," she said as she smiled faintly. She fingered a stolen sapphire as she counted the money inside. She had never been given an education, but a thief always knew how to count how much money they owned. "Five, six, seven, eight- eight gold nobles and two silvers. That and the gems should get me as far as the Yamani Isles if I can sneak passage on a boat." She stared at the beautiful pieces of wealth for a moment longer before she snapped the case shut and clicked the lock. She tucked it inside the very bottom of Thunder's bag of oats and shut the packs up. Tossing them on Thunder's back and ignoring the fact that she looked rather silly with two leather straps across her back holding up saddlebags with no saddle, she picked up her cloak and tossed it on her shoulders. Lifting up the hood, she mounted Thunder. "Let's get this show on the road," she said. With that, she shot fire at the door and, opening noiselessly, she stepped out into the alley for the last time. 

As she approached the Palace, she slipped off her mare's back and tugged her hood more firmly over her head. When she got to the gates of the Palace, there were more people there than she thought could fit into one place. But she had more important things to worry about. In front of her, were two Royal Guards and she could tell that the swords that hung at their waists were there for more than just to look pretty. She longed to reach out and swipe one, but held herself back. _This isn't the time for swords!,_ she muttered to herself as she ducked her head and walked in. "So far, so good," she said as she made it past the guards. Whispering a quick thanks to the Crooked God, she walked along until she found the stables. She didn't see anyone from where she was, so, quickly and silently, she ducked into an unoccupied stall behind the door. Making Thunder get as far back as she could, Nyah put a silencing spell on the tiny stall. With a sigh she sat down on the straw. Part one of her job was complete. 


	4. Problems

Naturally, Nyah didn't stay in the stall that whole night

Chapter 4

Naturally, Nyah didn't stay in the stall that whole night. After she had said countless prayers to the Mother and to the Crooked God, she left her horse in the stable alone, hoping that Thunder would appear to be just another mare, one of the many at the Palace. She wanted to stay but she had to survey the grounds of the Palace to see if there was any way that she might be able to get it. So climbing into the loft above Thunder's stall, she took off her bow and arrows and buried them deep within the hay. Giving her faithful horse an apple and warning her to be quiet, she set out among the Palace grounds.

As she walked about, she saw enough people to make her head spin. "Mirthos, Thief, and Goddess," she whispered as a knight mounted on a huge black stallion trotted past her. She had never seen knights on the same pathways as commoners; back home, if you even looked at a noble wrong, it could mean your head.

_Enough gawking!_ She scolded herself. _You're here for a reason. These people don't like you any better than the ones at home did so start searching for a way to escape!_ She headed toward the wall walk and looked up, sighing at what she saw. "Well I definitely won't get in that way," she muttered. There were guards all along the allure in the Tortallian colors. They all looked sharp and attentive; there was no easy way to get past them. Nyah had a feeling that her daggers and arrows would be as pointless throwing grass at a rock wall against those large broad swords that the men-at-arms carried strapped to their waists. 

Crossing the courtyard amid the jumble of people, she slowly made her way to the castle wall. The Palace itself was huge; it would take her hours to walk all the way around it. At first, she didn't see how she could get up the giant stone and wood structure. Craning her neck up to see how high it went, she scanned it, looking for some way to climb up the side since she obviously couldn't sneak her way in. Wait, there! About a third of the way up from the ground was an arrow loop that was just small enough for her to squeeze through. Her next problem was how to get up there. It was a good thirty feet climb of sheer stone, impossible for someone with as little Gift as her. Her emerald eyes wearily searched over the face. The she saw it. About eight feet away from the arrow loop was a wooden overhang. It looked to be a thick pole to hang heavy banners on during Midwinter. In any case it was about five inches thick and about three feet long, according to Nyah's judgment. Slowly a grin spread over her face. It was another challenge, and she had found her way into the Palace.

***

Eric once again was running through the streets only this time much faster. When he went in the Dancing Dove it was the same as before, empty, not a soul in site. He walked quietly, aware that there could be someone here watching him. He silently slipped up the staircase to the rooms on the second floor. He walked down to the very last one and rapped on the door in a series of taps. In a moment the door opened a crack and a hazel eye peered through. Quickly the rest of the door opened and Eric was ushered in. 

In the room were a few people that Eric knew, all from the Rogue and about seven in number. Obviously George was there, along with Marek and Leon. In addition to them was Fingers, Ercole, Orem, and one woman, the Queen of the Rogue and George's cousin, Rispah. All of them looked at Eric expectantly. "I jus' got word from Stefan," he said the others. "He says that a new horse came in, he'd never seen it before an' it was the same description, save color. No tack, jus' a bridle. Someone put 'er in the stall that he never uses. He said this is the best lead we got."

George nodded. "He's right. And we're gonna have to get over there and catch 'im 'fore the guards do." 

"How do we know that we ain' gonna get caught either, Majesty?" the cautious Orem asked George. "It's fair fool's play to get involved in another man's work, especially if he's that stupid."

George sighed and once again he reminded them that six of their men were in the Palace's hold because of this person. "Besides," he said. "I wanna meet 'im and ask a couple of questions," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "So," he continued. "I'll need a few men to come with me. Eric, you and Marek, an' Leon. Now come on, we don' have a lot of time to toy around with."

The rest of the men grabbed their weapons and threw cloaks over them that covered their faces completely. George put on a Mirthian priest's robe because he had more to risk than the rest of them. After checking to make sure he had all his daggers in the right places and loose in their sheaths he walked toward the door. As he headed toward the out, he looked at the remaining four. "The rest of you stay here 'til we get back. Gods help us." 

"May the Crooked God be with ya, Majesty," Rispah said as she stepped forward. Giving her cousin a quick hug, she whispered in his ear. "Come back safe, George." 

He gave her a nod and grinned, showing boyish features that had been forgotten in the past month. "Don' worry, Rispah. I ain' never been caught before and I certainly won't start now." And with that, he left the room, leaving four very worried followers.

_That's three,_ Nyah thought as she counted the hours past the last chiming of the bell. _Time to go._ Checking to make sure her headscarf was securely fastened around her head, she jumped out of the loft with a cat's grace and landed almost soundlessly on the hay-strewn floor. Slinging her bow and quiver over her shoulders, she put the bridle and the saddlebags on Thunder, warning her to be very quiet until she got back. Then, she promised the horse, we'll be out of here forever. 

Stepping out of the stables, she shrouded herself in emerald magic. No one else could see it, and they couldn't hear her at all. Slipping over into the courtyards, she mumbled absently to herself. "Sure is less crowded at night," she said. "Ugh, why am I so nervous?!" she said in frustration. It didn't matter no one could hear her as long as she kept a small part of the back of her mind concentrated on keeping the spell. "I'm _never_ nervous before a heist." _But you've never robbed a Palace before, have you?_ The small sensible part in the back of her head said. "Shut up," she mumbled. "Besides, when was I ever sensible?"

Nyah kept walking until she finally reached the wall. "Here we go," she said. Looking around, she saw no guards. Taking a sharp arrow out of her quiver, she touched the shaft and it glowed deep green. She tied a coil of thin, strong rope around the end as tight as she could. Loading her bow, she pulled back with all her strength, aiming for the wooden post. "Mirthos, help me," she whispered and let the arrow fly. Her bowstring gave a loud twang that was choked by her magic. The arrow flew true, and hit its mark, punching all the way through the wood. The rope dangled innocently in front of her. Slinging the bow back on her shoulder, she pulled the rope as hard as she could, testing its strength. She grinned when it didn't snap and, placing one foot on the wall, began to climb up. 

George and his men came in quietly, slipping in through the side door that Stephan had left open for them. "Ok spread out and go around the Palace as fast as you can. You know the signal if you see anything." George himself took the west wall, walking around quickly and scanning all of the area. At first he almost missed it. It made no sound whatsoever, and blended in almost perfectly in the night. Only a sliver of moonlight gave it away. Climbing up the western wall was a cloaked figure. George held his hands to his lips and gave a strange, nighttime bird's whistle in a small tune. 

He watched as the figure moved at a steady pace, looking as though whoever it was had had years of practice. Even he had to admire the way he moved, it was so good. After several painstaking minutes, Marek, Eric, and Leon came running quietly over to him. George said nothing, only pointed the figure out to the men. They nodded. Leon reached for his bow.

Nyah jumped and nearly lost hold of the rope as an arrow, sharp as a knife, pinged off the stone, barely inches away from her. Looking down, she saw four small figures. One held the bow in his hand and it strung, another arrow in his teeth. The other two men were dressed alike; the third looked to be a priest of the Temple of Mirthos. Nyah cursed. She was only a few feet away from wooden overhang; she could get up there and shoot back down. She'd be a hard target from that angle. Pulling herself up the last few legs, she swung up and straddled the post. She swooped her longbow off her shoulder and shot an arrow quickly, it hit the ground barely six inches away from its target, the man with the bow. Seeing that she was armed only made the men more determined. The other's whipped out bows and began shooting at her. Arrows pinged off of the stone barely centimeters away from her head. She felt flecks of granite hit her face as it chipped off. And so the girl and the men were lodged in their own silent battle where not a sound was made. 

Nyah decided to pull out her throwing star, her favorite weapon. Slipping her fingers into her cuff she flicked one down at the men with expert precision. She grinned wickedly as it hit one of the men, the big one that first shot, in the arm and he dropped his bow. She heard a cry from him but it wasn't enough to make the guard look their way. Again she threw a star, and this time, it hit the other cloaked man in the leg. Pulling out her last star, she took careful aim for the priest, who seemed to be their leader. Suddenly, she dropped the star and cried out in pain. An arrow had hit her square in her left shoulder muscle. She had forgotten about her Gift and let it drop too. Her scream could be heard throughout the courtyard and there were guards that were beginning to call out to one another. Blood gushed out of the wound and she felt dizzy. With a final curse, she lost her balance and toppled head over heels off the post.Cha


	5. Waking Up

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

George watched as the thief began to tumble off the post and fall. He winced as his head slammed into the stone wall with a sickening crack. A blinding flash of white light developed around the thief ten feet before he hit the ground. The bright light shone around the young man- woman? George couldn't tell. The features looked feminine but he was more concerned with getting out of the Palace alive than whether or not the young thief was male or female. He was unable to move however, as he watched as the light slowed the person's fall and slowly lowered him/her to the ground. When they touched the ground, the light vanished just as suddenly as it had disappeared. 

"George! George, let's go!" Marek tugged George's arm. They could hear the clank of armor, a sure sign that the guards were coming to investigate the scream and the light. George looked at Marek who was limping because of the excellent shot with the throwing star, then back at the young thief who was bleeding profusely now from the chest wound and the head. Normally, he would say that his job was done; he had finished what he came to do. However, something compelled him to look back. 

"Eric, help me with 'im," George decided against his better judgment. This kid would definitely owe him after this. Eric was about to open his mouth to argue but George cut him off. "Now!" Eric nodded shortly and went over with George. No one argued with the King of the Rogue when he spoke in that tone. George hoisted her, (it was definitely a her, he could tell now) onto his shoulder with Eric's help. The four of them moved as quickly as possible back to the stables as the voices of the guards became more distinct. Eric helped support Leon and Marek held his injured arm as the men slipped out through the secret passage in the stables and didn't stop moving until they reached the Dancing Dove.

***

The dream was a strange one, stranger than usual. The beautiful Kiloa sat as a round polished marble table inlaid with gold. Across from her was the Great Mother Goddess, resplendent as only a deity could be. Kiloa seemed to have a worried look on her face and was speaking to the Goddess in a tired tone. "I don't know what to do, Mother," the Young Goddess said. "I have done everything I can think of; I have even interfered in and saved the girl's life to try and help but I can't do it."

"My daughter, confronting a past is even harder for mortals than it is for us," the Mother said in a soothing tone. She patted Kiloa's hand. "Don't worry you're doing fine, my child."

Kiloa gave a small smile and rose. "Very well. I will continue to work with the girl till she can see what she really can become in her life."

Nyah's eyes flickered and she opened them. Blinking several times, she groaned. She felt like she had been hit with a ton of bricks. _And kicked by a horse to boot,_ she thought. Remembering her dream, she muttered, "I always knew I got second rate, even with the gods." 

"Don' be callin' my mother's work second-rate girl," a voice said from her side. She turned and saw a man sitting on a stool next to the bed she was lying on. She yelped and reached for her dagger at her waist only to find that she wasn't wearing it. She wasn't wearing her boots or her own clothes either for that matter. She had on a homespun nightdress and was lying in a bed that was too soft to be her mat that she had slept on for the past two years."Where's my things?" she demanded, trying to sit up. "And where am I? And my horse, where's my horse?"

The man carefully pushed her back down on the bed. "Relax, girl. My ma would kill me if I were to cause a slowin' to her healin'." 

At the word "healing", Nyah remembered that she had been shot in the left side and looked down. The sleeve of the nightdress was cut off and she had a snow-white bandage wrapped around her shoulder and chest. Her left arm was stiff and hurt it hurt to move it. Reaching up with her good arm, she felt another bandage wrapped around her head. She sighed and flopped back on the pillow, wincing as her head bounced on it. "This'll take weeks to heal," she muttered. Looking up at the man, she saw that he was rather handsome, save that his nose was slightly too big for his face. He had lovely hazel eyes however and looked to be about seventeen. "Who're you?" she asked him.

"I oughta ask you the same question. But you asked first after all. Name's George, King of the Court of the Rogue."

Nyah stared at him. "Court of the-? King? I-I-? Oh Goddess!" she stuttered, placing a hand to her head. She stared at him for a moment. She had seen that face before, but where? "You're the priest!" she exclaimed. "You- you tried to kill me! I want out of here!" she yelled. "Somebody help!" 

George popped a hand over her mouth. "Listen to me! I can be your friend, if you'll let me. I know ye're on the run, and I can help you. If ye promise not to yell, I'll let you go. Promise?" 

Nyah's eyes were full of spite but she gave a curt nod. Slowly, George took his hand down from her mouth. When she didn't yell, he sat back at the edge of the stool. Looking around the room, she saw that she was lying in a bed in the middle of the floor. On her right next to George was a desk and across the room was a chest of drawers and mirror. On the far left side was a hearth with two leather chairs and a soft looking rug in front of it. All around the room were candles in either silver or golden holders. Nyah was surprised that a man who made his way as a thief, even a King of thieves, had such fine things. 

"What'd you want with me?" she asked George coldly. 

"Well a name would be a good start," George said mildly, picking up a glass and taking a swig. 

She looked into those deep hazel eyes for a trace of deception but could find none. "It's Nyah," she said grudgingly. "Just Nyah. I'm fifteen and I've nothing to do with you."

"Straightforward little lass, aren' ye?" George muttered as he took another gulp of his ale. 

"Yes, and you're a drunk and a kidnapper," she replied tartly. "So either tell me why you tried to kill me or let me go somewhere where I'm not confined to a room with a man who won't answer any of my questions."

George sighed. "A little _too _straightforward," he grumbled. "Look. Because of what ye did, I've got six of my men back there in the Palace dungeons. And I wasn' tryin' to kill ye, I was hopin' ye'd get scared and come down from that gods cursed hard to shoot at post. But ye didn' and Eric got a little too arrow happy. We didn' mean t' hit ye, and if it's any consolation, I did get you out of the Palace, get you to a healer, brought yer horse back from the stables, and spent the last three days in here hoping you weren' t' die on me."

Nyah sat spellbound for a moment. Why would this stranger try and save her, a girl with a thieving Gift, no family background and no hope for the future? A nasty, unforgiving part of her thought of excuses. "All that besides," Nyah said. She was never very good at ignoring that particular voice. "You _did _shoot at me, and hit me. And what business did you have barging into my life? Everything was just fine until you came along and had to mess things up!"

George couldn't believe this girl. Here he was trying to make things right and all she did was yell at him about how he messed up her life! "Oh and you didn' do anythin' wrong?! Because you robbed my Lord Provost I have six of my best men in the dungeons. Not to mention the fact that ye injured Leon and Marek with yer throwin' stars!" he ranted. He looked at the girl, expecting a retaliation only to find that she was staring at him in disbelief.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked him.

George blinked, then smiled; maybe he was finally getting on the good side of the girl. "No, you didn't."

Nyah balled her right fist and swung it out from under the sheets, hitting him hard in the stomach. He doubled over trying to catch his breath. "There," she said with satisfaction. "Now we're even."

George glared at her. "Huh- Mirthos, I give up!" He stood and went to the door, slightly bent from Nyah's punch. He put his hand on the handle, and took a deep breath. Turning back to look at Nyah, he forced his voice to be cordial. "My mother, Eleni will be up later to look at ye. She's a healer, an' a good one too. Until then, get some rest." He turned to go. Halfway out the door, he stopped and turned back. "And think about what I said Nyah." He shut the door.

Nyah sat on the bed. "I wish I knew _what_ he said," she sighed. 

***

Nyah tried to sleep, and after thrashing about on her pillow for an hour, she did. When she awoke, there were two women in her room, a tall, busty redhead with kind eyes and an older woman who was busy mixing something over the fire. The redheaded woman was looking over some clothing she had in front of her on one of the leather chairs. _Joy. More visitors,_ Nyah thought grumpily. "I take it one of you's t' be Mistress Eleni Cooper," she said sitting up. She felt much better after her rest and she could also think much more clearly. 

"That'd be me, child," the elderly woman said. "And it's about time you awoke. I've been brewing this for you for awhile now." Eleni poured a ladleful of the concoction into a mug. She placed it onto a tray and motioned for the redhead to take it. 

"Thank you," Nyah said politely as the lady placed it on her lap. The woman introduced herself as Rispah. 

Nyah took a sip of the medicine and gagged. "Pardon me Mistress Cooper, but what's in here?" 

"You don't wanna know, youngster," Rispah said with a wink. 

"Hush niece!" Eleni scolded. She turned her attention back to Nyah. "It doesn't matter what's in it, the point is it'll will help your wounds to heal faster. You're very lucky you know," she said as she walked over to her with her hands full of bandages and ointment. "That arrow nearly pierced your heart. If George hadn't brought you to me when he did, you would've been dead by now. Put that tray aside so I can change your bandages." 

Nyah obeyed, feeling a twang of guilt at the mention of George. She felt bad for the way she had treated him earlier although her pride wouldn't let her say it. _He really did risk his life to save you,_ she thought. _You could've at least said thank you, instead of punching him._ She wasn't thinking straight then, and she hated that she couldn't at least say the right thing to him. "Mistress Cooper," Nyah asked, wincing as the ointment stung the gash on her head. "Could you or Rispah do me a favor? Could you a- apologize to George for me? I don't think I'll be here long enough for me to see him again and-"

"Hold on, dear," Eleni interrupted. "I wouldn't go that far. You took quite a beating falling from that building. That muscle will take some time to heal. Wherever you think you may be going, you had better put off your plans for a month or so."

"A month!" Nyah exclaimed, twisting to look at the woman and yelping as the muscle in her arm pulled. 

"I told you," the older woman said pointedly. "A month, at the least. And I don't want to hear another word about it," she said with finality. "Now you finish that medicine and eat those biscuits. You're nothing but skin and bones. I'll be back later to check on you."

"I'll be back later to visit," Rispah said. Mistress Cooper stood and, beckoning to Rispah, the two of them left, leaving Nyah to worry about what on earth she would do now.


	6. Secrets

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It had been two weeks and Nyah had yet to move from the bed. It turned out that in addition to putting a fairly large gash in her head and getting pierced with an arrow in the shoulder muscle that burned when sheused it too much, she had also broken her ankle. No matter how much she begged, Mistress Cooper refused to budge. "I'll not be having that ankle go under strain, nor your shoulder try to handle a crutch." Nyah had even been desperate enough to pray to not only the Crooked God and the Mother, but Kiloa as well. She promised the Young Goddess that if only she would let her heal quickly and get out of Tortall safe, she would agree to find the man who was to help her confront her past. However, no matter how often she prayed, the Girl never came to her in her dreams or in any visions. 

"Figures," she would mutter. "The gods _would _only meddle in my life when I don't want them to." She had to admit that it wasn't all bad in the room. Sometimes, Mistress Cooper would grudgingly let her sit in one of the comfy chairs by the fire. Often Rispah would come to talk and Nyah realized that for all the woman's flirtatious ways that would make some call her "scandalous" she really was rather kind. Nyah found out from her that Rispah was the Queen of the Ladies of the Rogue and that she was George's cousin. Aside from gossiping about the people of the Rogue, the two of them would talk about George in earnest. Once Rispah asked Nyah why she talked about him so much. "Are you takin' a fancy to him, Nyah?" she asked teasingly.

Nyah laughed at the thought. "No!" she said. "But that's the strange thing. I don't love him, definitely not that, but I feel _something _for him. I just can't put my finger on it. Rispah, do you know why he hasn't come to see me?" It was true. Ever since they argued when they first met, George hadn't been around.

Rispah shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. He said something about bein' too busy but I know that's a load of horse dung. I did tell him that you were sorry for the way you acted before but he muttered something about his stomach still hurtin' and left right quick." A puzzled look came over her face. "Why would he say that?"

Nyah guiltily told her about how she had punched him. Rispah laughed herself silly. "Oh Goddess!" she exclaimed. "I've heard of brutal thanks, but that's ridiculous!"

"I told you I was thinking straight," she muttered, blushing a brilliant shade of crimson.

"Obviously." 

***

in another week, Nyah's ankle was healed completely and she was up about, walking about town with Rispah. She got her old clothes and weapons back, cleaned and mended. Her shoulder was still stiff and bruised but as Eleni had said, the arrow had pierced her shoulder and chest muscle. It would take a long while to heal. One of the very first things Nyah did when was up was go to visit Thunder in the Dancing Dove stables. At first the horse, mad for Nyah not seeing her in so long, acted quite aloof. However, when she saw the sugar cubes and apples Nyah had brought for her, she broke and nuzzled her mistress happily. Nyah hunted about the stables for her saddlebags and found them buried in the corner of Thunder's stall, along with the halter. She carefully dug into the bottom of the oat sack and found her small gilded box. She sighed with relief as all of her goods still there. The ten gold nobles and the gems, some made into jewelry, some just there in their own radiant glory. 

"Nice collection you got there," a man's voice remarked. 

Nyah jumped and twisted, pulling on her shoulder. She cursed a string of very colorful words that would singe the ears of even the toughest guardsman as she rubbed her aching muscle.

"Hello to you too," George commented leaning against a post by Thunder's stall. 

Nyah slid the box back into the saddlebag, one eye on George still unsure what to think of this King of Thieves. "Very funny," she muttered. 

She walked over to him and George sized up the girl. She was tall for her fifteen years, standing at about five feet six inches. Her blond hair he thought, contrasted sharply with her deep, almost unreal, green eyes, but in nice way. Also, he noticed that even though she had priceless pieces of jewelry in her box, all she wore was string of small blue beads spaced with silver ones around her next."What?" Nyah asked him, wondering why he was staring at her so. 

"Nothing," he replied. "So, Nyah. What are you going to do now?" he asked her. 

She was about to make a remark about it being none of his business but decided against it at the last moment. He had asked a simple question, one that she could answer if she weren't being rude. And besides, he had done so much for her. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I was going to go to the Yamani Isles or Carthak. I still want to, but not as much as I did." _He's pretty easy to talk to, _she thought as she wondered why she had just told this man her plans. 

George nodded. "So you weren't thinkin' about stickin' around for awhile?"

"Are you kidding?" she asked incredulously. "I've got my Lord Provost's men scouring the city for me! How in the Mother's name could I stay?"

"How can you leave?" he asked her. 

Nyah looked at him over her mare's back as she curried Thunder with her good arm. "What do you mean?"

"If Provost is lookin' for you, what's to stop him from lookin' on the ships headin' out of the country? In case you didn't hear, he did find out that you're a younglin' now, not a older man like he thought." When her jaw dropped, he explained. "One of your buyers in Goldenlake spilled the information to the guards, in hopes of getting'the money. So what do you plan to do now?" he asked her after a moment.

Nyah gritted her teeth. This could not happen! She knew the penalty if she was caught as well as anyone else and yet, as much as she hated to admit it, George was right. Her plans to escape out of the countryhad just been crushed. There was no way to leave right now, and she knew it. But what would she do? A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly hoping that George didn't see it.

However, George didn't miss much. He walked over to her. "You know," he said softly. "You could stay with us."

Nyah looked up. "You mean, become part of the Rogue?" she asked in disbelief.

"If you want," George replied.

Nyah looked at him but then a small voice in the back of her mind said, _No! You can't! remember what happened last time! He would never forgive you!_

"George, I- I can't. I'm sorry but I can't." she said quietly without looking at him.

"Why not?" he asked her.

"I just can't!" she told him again, her temper rising.

He saw a flicker of something inside her eyes and decided that he shouldn't push it. "All right," he said. "Here's the deal. You owe me and you know it," he told her.

She was about to snap back that she didn't owe him anything but he cut her off before she could say anything. "Lemme finish. It's bad manners to interrupt." Nyah scowled. "Stay for awhile, since you can't leave anyway and see how you like it. After a month or so, everythin' should die down and if you want you can leave."

She was about to say that she would make no deals when he jumped over the stall door and walked out of the stable. On his way out he turned around. "Think about it." With that, he left just as suddenly as he had come.

"I'm not going to stay!" Nyah yelled but it was a half-hearted effort. In despair, she buried her head in Thunder's mane so no one would see her cry.

That night, Nyah gave George back his rooms and the owner of the Dancing Dove, an elderly man named Solom, gave her a room at the end of the hall. She tossed and turned at night, troubled by dreams. Most of them were the same, and the scary part to her was that it was real. She saw it, clear as if it had happened yesterday, although it had been several years. She was seven, and her father was in the fields with her. Both of them were riding their horses and Nyah laughed as her father told her a story about the sun and the moon. Suddenly, an arrow shot down hit her father in the middle of the back. Nyah screamed and Thunder, spooked took off into the fields. Nyah looked back and saw more men, raiders it looked like from their way of dress, chasing after her on menacing looking stallions. Using the skills only a born horseman has, she urged Thunder on, maneuvering her mare through the field and into the woods. She leapt over a stream and dodged trees. Using her Gift, she silenced Thunder's hooves, but she was so young that it didn't work well. The most she had ever used it for before was to silence the stairs as she snuck downstairs to get cookies from the kitchen. She rode for hours, even though she knew that the raiders had long since given up. She rode until she didn't recognize anything and Thunder was shaking and sweating crazily. After nightfall, she finally stopped and huddled down by a large tree next to a stream, crying silently, a lone seven year old girl in the middle of nowhere with her horse, listening to the howling of wolves in the middle of the night.


	7. Welcome to the Rogue

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A month flew by quickly for Nyah and she learned many new things about life and herself.First of all, when Nyah told George that she didn't know how to read or write, he set about to teaching her. After her first few lessons, George soon realized that she was a fast and avid student. She was reading whatever she could get her hands on, and once, George went go to check on her in her rooms late at night and found her asleep on her desk, a candle burning down to a stub beside her. Her finger was slipped inside a small, thin book of his, saving her place. He smiled in spite of himself. He didn't know why, but he felt an odd attachment to this fifteen-year-old girl. It wasn't love; he knew what that felt like. This was a strange a new feeling to him, something gods-sent, and he couldn't quite place it. George gently lifted the young woman into bed and blew out the candle. Nyah rolled over and mumbled something. George leaned over and gave her a small kiss on the cheek, not a romantic kiss, but more the kind that a brother would give his sister.

Nyah learned other things from the Rogue and his followers as well. George would give her detailed instruction on the art of daggers and Leon was always willing to help her work on her archery. It was with these men that she learned to navigate the Lower City better than she had ever done before and how to pick pockets without using her Gift.Scholar was the one to teach her forgery; Ercole and Marek taught her how to gamble without loosing every coin and gem she had. 

Rispah also took the young woman under her wing, teaching her the "art of flirting", as she called it with a wry wink. She gave Nyah a dress or two and taught her how to apply face paint and scented perfumes to her body.She even allowed her ears to be pierced, gritting her teeth and biting her lip until it bled when the needle went through her lobes. Under the older woman's instruction, Nyah was soon considered a "charming flirt" by many of the Lower City's men. They would all flirt back with her and try to get her to fall for them but everything stopped just short of trying to physically make love with her. No one had forgotten how good her shots with the throwing stars were. 

George even introduced her to his young friend Alan, three-year page in the Palace. Nyah was a little suspicious at first; the boy didn't look at all like a lad who'd been working the past three years in training to become a knight. However, when George suggested a match between the two of them with daggers, Alan proved his worth. After the first ten minutes or so, Nyah was down in the dirt, Alan's dagger pointed at her throat. He pulled her up and the two of them began to talk about tactics of battle and such.

All in all, Nyah was accepted into the Rogue without actually being sealed into it. She was happy and content with her life for the past month. She had received no dreams or visions from Kiloa and that was just fine with her. She felt that for once in her life, she was accepted. 

***

"Ow!" Nyah yelped as George and her worked on daggers together in the Dancing Dove's stable. It was chilly outside now, the typical cool October month. Her guard was down and George had landed a solid rap on her head. Gritting her teeth, she lunged at him, making him jump back quickly. Dancing in circles, the two of them lunged and struck with practice knives. Suddenly, an idea struck Nyah and, quick as a flash, she feigned to the left and dodged right and low, swinging her leg out and hitting George in the back of the knee. He fell over and Nyah quickly put her knife at his throat. 

"Gods!" George exclaimed as Nyah helped to haul him to his feet. "Where did you learn that type of fightin'? Sure as true, they don' teach that in Tortall!"

Nyah wiped sweat from her brow with a towel and leaned against a stall's door. "Sure they do," she replied. "Alan taught me that move and-"

"No not that," George interrupted. "That kick you did. Where'd you learn it?"

Nyah swallowed. "Back home," she said, not meeting his eyes. 

George knew that was all he would get from her. He had brought up her former home many times before and she refused to say anything. "Oh."

"Speakin' of homes," he said after a moment, "you know it's been a month since you first came here. Have you decided if you'll stay or not?"

Nyah looked at him. "_You'll be sorry if you stay here,"_ a voice in her head warned her. _No, _she thought fiercely. _This is different. I'm accepted here. _"Oh, I think I'll stay," she said casually, her eyes glistening with fun.

"But Nyah, you have to stay! Rispah an' I, we love you like a younger sister and-" He stopped and stared at her. "Did you just say you'll stay?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," she replied. "I believe I did." 

"Well, then." George grinned satisfactorily, and slung an arm over her shoulder. "Let's go tell Rispah that you're a member of the Rogue now." 

That night, a small ceremony took place to initiate Nyah into the Rogue. The only people there were George, who was conducting the rite, Rispah, Marek, Eric, Ercole, Leon, Red Nell, a flower seller who was one of the first of the Court's ladies to accept Nyah, and Alan, who happened to be in the Lower City that day. That was fine with Nyah; she hated having lots people watching her. The ceremony took place in a private room of the Dancing Dove. First, she had to swear loyalty to George and to the Rogue. She promised to obey the Rogue's laws and to never betray a fellow thief to the authorities. Then came the hardest part, yet one that every thief of the Rogue had to go through. Holding out her arm, Nyah rolled up her sleeve. George took a hot poker out of the fire and quickly held it against her inner arm, just below her elbow. Nyah bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. No one would see her cry! After what seemed like forever, George took it off and Rispah stepped forward with a burn ointment and a clean white bandage. She bound it quickly and stepped back. Looking around at the rest of the group, she was surprised to see that everyone was smiling. Alan was looking at her with a new respect in his unusually strange purple eyes, the rest of them grinning and Rispah gave Nyah a wink of congratulations. 

"Welcome to the Court of the Rogue, Nyah," George said. He stepped over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Welcome to your new family."

After a day or so, Rispah took the bandage off of Nyah's arm and she admired the scar that had formed. It was in the shape of a small "R", and the skin that had burned was shiny and shone against her darker tan colored tone. As a member, she started small, picking pockets for George, and every once and awhile, he would take her and a few of the others to a wealthy noble's house. Nyah would silence them all with her emerald green fire and they would continue to pilfer items from the men of Tortall. 

Two weeks after her initiation into the Rogue, Nyah curled up into bed, shivering as the she threw emerald fire at the hearth, warming her room. November was cold in Tortall, she was never used to it. Finally, she was warm and she rolled over and fell asleep to the sound of the crackling fire.

She dreamt that night. Once again, she saw the beautiful Young Goddess seated at a large marble table, balancing on the clouds.This time however, she was alone. "Hello?" Nyah asked. 

The Goddess looked up and smiled, her eyes flashing a golden color. "Hello my young sister," she said. "Please take a seat." She gestured to the chair across from her. Nyah walked over tentatively, knelt before the Young Goddess, and sat down at the seat indicated. "I see that you've done well," Kiloa remarked. 

"Yes, Holy Sister," Nyah replied.Unlike in past dreams, she could speak to the Young Goddess this time. 

"The Rogue, George Cooper has done you a great service. I see that you have been inducted into his band of thieves. But you do know that he has given you much more than that."

"Yes," Nyah agreed. "He has given me a family as well. For the first time, I'm actually accepted by people for who I am."

The Young Goddess smiled. "Indeed. However, he has given you something else. He's given you the first half of the key to your past."

Nyah looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously. 

"Your scar," She replied. "And now I will give you the second half. Give me your arm." Nyah obeyed and stuck her arm out. When the Young Goddess touched her, she felt a strange tingling feeling go up her arm. Kiloa placed her first two fingers on the "R" below the crook of her elbow and the tingly feeling began to intensify. Nyah looked down and saw that the scar was flashing different colors, from red, to blue, to green, to gold, to silver. Startled, she looked up at Kiloa and saw that the Young Goddess's eyes were flashing the same colors as her scar. Smiling, Kiloa dropped the girl's arm and Nyah quickly rolled the sleeve of her shirt back down, trying to shake the odd tingly feeling from her arm. 

The deity stood and began to fade into clouds. "Use this key," she said. "Use it to unlock the mysteries of your past." With that she was gone. 

Nyah woke with a start. "Oh no," she moaned. Looking down at her scar, she breathed a sigh of relief. It still looked the exact same as it had when she went to bed. Smiling at her own folly -Why would the gods ever choose to use her as an instrument? - She rolled over and went back to sleep, shooting her magic out at the fire in the hearth to put it out. She didn't noticed that her fire, while still emerald green, was decked with specks of multicolored sparks, the colors the Young Goddess had given her. 


	8. Secrets Revealed

Chapter 8 

Chapter 8 

The next day when Nyah awoke before dawn to begin her morning workout routine, she shot out her magic to light a branch of candles. When the emerald fire sprouted from her fingertips, she gasped. Not only was it emerald, bits of it were multicolored. "What in the name of the Crooked God?" she whispered. She looked at her hand and found that it appeared normal. How could this have happened? "The Young Goddess," she remembered grimly. "_She _did this! That prissy two timing, good-for-nothing b-" She cut herself off quickly and looked up, praying that a lightning bolt wouldn't hit her. It wasn't wise to insult the gods! 

"But now what?" she thought aloud as she hurriedly pulled on her breeches. "What does she want me to do with it? I can still pick locks and make myself silent -at least I _think _I can- but what does _it _do? Oh gods," she sighed as she sank down onto her desk chair. "I don't get it!" she muttered in frustration. "I never asked to be an instrument of the gods! Never!" She pounded on the desk for emphasis. 

She took a deep breath. She knew it would've happened sooner or later. It happened once and it hit someone she loved most, all because of her. And now, she had made something horrible happen again. Nyah gritted her teeth grimly as she came to a decision. She stuck around last time, and it hurt her and her father. She wasn't going to let it happen to her new family, not to George or Rispah or anyone else of the Rogue. "I leave tonight," she decided with finality. "I don't care what that prissy little goddess says, I will not confront my past and I won't put George in danger!" With that, she stood up and began to pack her things into Thunder's saddlebags, blinking hard so that she wouldn't have to admit that she was crying.

***

George knew right away that something was wrong with Nyah when she came in for breakfast that morning. Instead of being her usual happy self, she was sitting quietly, picking at her oatmeal. Also, she was usually tired and mussed after her morning workout in the stables. Today she looked as though she had just gotten out of bed and put her tunic and breeches, carefully brushed her hair and washed her face. She avoided anyone's eyes and when George, Rispah, and Nyah all sat down together to eat, he gave his cousin a worried look. She met his eyes and she could tell that Rispah was thinking the same things he was. "Nyah?" he ventured cautiously, "Are you all right?"

She looked up at him with deep green eyes and he could feel his heart melt. He instantly felt protective, much like an older brother would for his sister. "Yeah I'm fine," she told him unconvincingly. "I'm just a little tired. I didn't get much sleep last night, that's all. Will you two excuse me? I'm really not very hungry." Without waiting for an answer, stood and quickly went up the staircase back into her room.

"I'll swear by the Goddess that somethin's botherin' that child," Rispah said as she looked at the chair Nyah had left. She sighed and spooned some honey into her oatmeal. "She was doin' so well. Branded into the Rogue and treatin' us like we were family. I wonder what the matter could be."

George said nothing, only stared into the contents of his bowl as Nyah had. A gnawing feeling had begun in his stomach and he had suddenly lost his appetite. _So do I, Rispah, _he thought. _So do I._

The rest of the day went the same as breakfast. Nyah was unusually silent and the other members of the Rogue picked up on it. When Ercole offered to go on a ride with her, she declined, something she never did. She did the same when Leon asked if she wanted to practice her shot with him. All throughout the day, the others would catch her looking at them hard, as though she were trying to memorize their faces. When they turned to look at her however, she would quickly turn her head away and continue her work. 

After dinner, Nyah immediately retired to her room and Rispah decided that she should have a talk with the girl. She knocked on the door quietly and stepped in. Nyah sat at her desk, scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper. Seeing Rispah, she shoved the paper into desk drawer quickly and snapped it shut. "I didn't hear you come in," she said falsely bright as she faced the older woman.

Rispah smiled and sat down on the bed next to Nyah. Neither said anything for a moment, and Nyah sat in an uncomfortable silence. _I'm going to miss her so much,_ she thought sadly, staring at her lap. _She was almost like a mother or a best friend. Of course, _she recalled grimly, _I wouldn't know. I've never had either before. _

"Copper for your thoughts, younglin'," Rispah said gently. 

Nyah shrugged continued to look down at the floor with interest. "Nothing," Nyah mumbled. 

"You sure?" Rispah placed a comforting arm around the girl's shoulder.

__Oh, how she wished she could tell her! Tell her how she couldn't stay and all about Kiloa and how she was so afraid to leave a family again! Why couldn't she tell? _They'll just be scared of you, they way they were at home,_ she thought. _The less I say, the less I have to explain._"Yes," she said. "Just the silly thoughts of a teenage girl." She looked up at Rispah and the older woman saw that tears had developed in the deep confines of those green eyes. 

"All right," she said. Even though she was unconvinced, she felt that Nyah really wanted to be alone right now. She gave her a hug and for some reason, she held on a little longer than she usually did, as if she felt she wouldn't see the girl again for a long time. She stood and walked out of the room. Before she left, she turned and told Nyah, "I'll always be here for you. Me an' George. You know that, right?" Nyah gave a weak grin and nodded. "Okay." Rispah turned and left.

As soon as the door closed, Nyah buried her face down on her pillow so no one would hear her muffled sobs.

That night, Nyah stepped out of the Dancing Dove's stable, leading Thunder behind her. She had silenced them both and donned her thieving outfit and gear. She turned for one last look back at what had been her home for the past month. A crack of thunder rumbled through the night sky and it began to rain few sparse droplets. The drops patted on her hood and Nyah let a drop of her own slip down her cheek. "Good-bye," she whispered.She turned abruptly and mounted Thunder. Kicking the horse into a gallop, she rode off into the night.  
  


George jerked awake suddenly to a clap of thunder. Something wasn't right; he could feel it. Getting up, he lit a fire in the hearth and sat down in one of the leather chairs that had captivated Nyah so much when she first came to stay with them. He stared into the fire for a moment, wondering what the matter was. Sighing, he leaned back when his eyes caught something on the tea table in front of him. An envelope was there, and his name was written on it in Nyah's careful hand. "Now what's this all about?" he muttered to himself as his picked it up. He broke the plain wax seal on the back of it and pulled out a long tear stained letter. He uneasy feeling grew as he held it up to the light to read.

_George-_

_I don't know exactly where to begin. I suppose I should explain but I don't have much time.I don't have much time but you need to know about my past _

_I was born in Scanra in the Chihopa, a group of people like your Bazhir, tribesmen I guess you call them. Anyway, my mother died giving birth to me and by Chihopa custom, I was to be offered as a sacrifice to Calami, their goddess of death and dying. If I weren't, I would bring evils and misfortune down upon the Chihopa tribes, for I killed my mother. They also found out that I had the Gift, which was even worse than my mother dying. You see, Chihopa chiefs were the only ones who could have the Gift and live, and women were not allowed to rule. The priests told my father that if they were to kill me and offer me to Calami, he would have good fortune and many sons. _

_However my father, although devastated by my mother's death, refused to let them kill me. I don't know why; I never got the chance to ask him. I was five years old, and we were still living with the tribe, al thought no one would talk to me, except to call me " Sacrifice Girl" or "Underworld Witch". It was then that a terrible storm came across the land, flooding the fields and the villages until there was hardly a morsel of food left anywhere. The tribesmen were outraged and were convinced that it was my fault. Father escaped with me and we left the tribe forever. _

_We moved to a little house in the country. I never got any birthday gifts except for one and it took Father five years to save up for it. He bought me Thunder when I was six, and he taught me how to ride and shoot a bow as well as him. He believed that a woman should always know how to defend herself; his sister had been killed after being raped by a raider when she was fifteen. _

_When I was seven years old, we were out for a ride when raiders swooped down on us and shot my father in the back. He dropped and when they began to swarm out from the forest, I thought of my dead aunt and panicked. I abandoned my father and rode far away in the forest and stayed there for two days. When I went back, Father was gone. I never saw him again. _

_For the past eight years, I have been using my Gift to steal and rob my way through life, taking what I needed from stores and merchants stalls. For two years, as you may remember, I had been robbing from nobles' estates trying to save up enough to get passage to the Yamani Isles or to Carthak so I could leave this continent and start over. Towards the end, I was desperate and tried to steal from the Palace and, well you pretty much know how things went from there. _

_So know you know. You know my whole past and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, but it was too hard. I thought you would think like the tribesmen did and try to cast me out because I was a Gifted-evil omen. But you accepted me. _

_George, you know I love you like a brother but I'm desperate again and I have to leave. I'm sorry but I can't stay any longer. I wish I could tell you why, but like my past, I don't think I could tell you. I love you big brother, and I always will. Tell Rispah and Eleni that I love them too. Thank you for everything; I'll never forget you. _

_Love always, forever and until end of time,_

_Nyah_"R"

George stared at the letter in his hands. He read it three more times before he grasped the reality. His hands began to tremble and he gritted his teeth in fury. "Gods damn it!" he cried out. "Gods damn it to the Underworld and beyond!" He wasn't mad at Nyah, he was mad at himself. He was furious with those men who had made his friend think that she was worth nothing, only a sacrifice to a god that wasn't even there! He hated himself for not knowing, not helping her cope. "Gods!" He stood and picked up a vase that sat on the table and hurled it at the wall with all his might. 

When it shattered, he stopped raving and stared at the broken shards on the floor. Slowly and carefully, he folded up the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Then in the same oddly calm motion, ripped it up into tiny pieces and threw it into the fire. "Crooked God, help her. And me," he said. 

Nyah had been riding for three days and had reached the outskirts of Port Caynn, where a temple for the Great Mother Goddess was. It had poured down rain ever since she'd left Corus, and the drab gray sky matched her mood. When she reached the temple, she knocked on the door and asked if the Mother of the House could spare room for a homeless girl and take her out of the shivering cold. The First Daughter of the House was a middle-aged woman who gave Nyah her own spacious room, which was clearly the best she had ever been in. A shrine to the Goddess was in the corner of the room where she could pray privately. A hearth stood next to it with a table and chairs so she could eat in her room is she wanted. A large bed was in the middle of the room with curtains that she could pull around if she wanted to do so. A mahogany desk and closet were in front of the bed and the door was on her right. The sheer beauty of it all was enough to make her wonder why she shouldn't give up her life of crime and become a Daughter of the Goddess. 

After the first night, Nyah slept for most of the day, exhausted by her three days in the saddle. When she awoke she found a tray on the table with a cluster of grapes, a slice of thick hickory smoked ham and biscuits that were all still warm. There was also a fire in the hearth and a kettle and leaves for her to fix herself some tea. She ate the meal quickly and then prayed at her shrine to the Goddess, thanking her for helping to find a sanctuary. She took a long hot bath in her own private wash room and bathed herself with some sweet smelling soaps that she thought must have come from the Divine Realms themselves. When she came out, she dressed herself in a fresh pair of breeches and a shirt. She spent the rest of the afternoon reading a book about the Goddess that she found inside her desk drawer. No matter how much she tried to concentrate though, her thoughts kept drifting back to Corus and George and more than once she had to wipe off the book's pages because they were getting wet with her tears.

She was half way through the book when there was a knock on her door. "Come in!" Nyah called. 

The door opened a white robed novice came in. She looked to be no more than twelve and curtsied when she stepped in. "My name is Jayla," she said politely, "and I've been sent by the First Daughter to help prepare you for dinner."

Nyah stared at the girl. Help prepare her for dinner? What, did she look like a steak? "Pardon me?" she asked. 

"Dinner," the novice repeated. "I'm sent here to help you dress."

"Oh!" Nyah said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Well okay, but I really don't think I need help. I'm pretty much ready to go." She gestured at her breeches and shirt. 

Jayla shook her head, hiding a smile. "No female can wear a man's clothing to our meals," she said. Walking over to the closet, she pulled out a blue green dress that was cut simply and was made for a girl Nyah's size. "How about this instead?"

"It's beautiful!" Nyah said happily. She had almost always worn boy's clothes because they were more practical when it came to fighting or riding. It didn't mean she didn't like to wear the pretty dresses that normal ladies wore. 

Jayla helped her put it on and when she fixed that last button and Nyah looked in the mirror, the dress fit her perfectly. "Some our dressmakers have the Gift," Jayla explained. "They witch the fabric so that when the wearer puts it on, it fits itself to the person's body. And besides, it saves on having to do alterations every time someone grows an inch." 

Nyah grinned. "Thank you Jayla."

"You're welcome… what did you say your name was?"

Nyah opened her mouth. "N- Natalia," she stuttered. She couldn't say her real name, even to someone as nice as Jayla. 

"Well, Natalia," Jayla said matter-of-factly, "There's one more thing I want to tackle and that is your hair." 

Nyah said down at the desk and the novice stood behind her. Nyah's blond hair had grown down to her shoulders and Jayla quickly put it in a myriad of tightly woven braids. "How did you do that so fast?" Nyah wondered in awe as she examined her hair. 

"Before I came to the House, I used to live in Galla. My mother did noble ladies hair and at one time that was the fashion. She often did one side whilst I did the other and we would race to see who could get done first. In time, I beat her. That style will stay in for at least two weeks also," she added. "So you won't have to mess with it for awhile."

A bell chimed from somewhere and Jayla turned to Nyah. "Supper," she said. "Follow me."

When they reached the food hall, there were many other novices there, as well as some older Daughters of the Goddess who had passed their Ordeal. The First Daughter and the Hag Daughter were also there at the head table where they gestured for Nyah to come and sit with them. Nyah gulped and blushed when she realized that she was the only one who was not a novice or a Daughter. She approached the table however, and curtsied before them. The First Daughter smiled at her and had her sit on her left. 

When everyone was seated, she and the Hag Daughter stood and they gave the blessing upon the food. Then the First Daughter clapped her hands and even more white-robed novices came out and began to serve everyone. She turned to Nyah. "So Natalia," she said politely, "I believe it was Novice Jayla that attended to you? I can always tell that hairstyle." 

Nyah smiled and nodded. "Yes Mother," she replied. "I'm on my way to Port Caynn and I needed shelter from the storm. I can't thank you enough for your generosity." 

"The Goddess would not turn away a soul in need and neither shall we," she responded. "So where were you coming from?"

Nyah picked up a grape and popped it in her mouth. She swallowed. "From the capital, Mother," she said.

"Oh really?" the Daughter became interested. "Were you there when the news came out?"

"News, Mother?" 

"Oh yes. A thief-I heard he was called the King of Thieves by his followers- was captured by my Lord Provost trying to break into the Palace."

Nyah dropped the grape she was holding. "What?" she whispered.

"They say he was looking for a girl who was supposedly wanted for as much money as he. I don't know why on earth he would look in the Palace though." The Daughter noticed Nyah's look. "Are you all right dear?"

"M-Mother, I'm terribly sorry but I- I really don't feel well," she said dazedly. It was a horrible lie but she must've looked ill because the Daughter nodded and called for a novice to take her back to her rooms.

She lay on her bed, sobbing. George was captured and it was all her fault. _Never again! _she thought. _Never ever again! _

Suddenly she gritted her teeth and pushed herself away from the pillow. Up straight, she jumped off the bed and spun around furiously, her new braids whipping her in the face as she dug under the bed for her saddlebags. "That's it!" she said as she slammed the bags on her bed and began to throw her spare clothes in it. "I'm not feeling sorry for myself anymore! It's my fault but I can make it right! I don't know how, but I'll make it right!"


	9. Doing What's Right

Chapter 9 Anne Klene Anne Klene 2 8706 2001-10-29T22:35:00Z 2001-10-29T22:35:00Z 7 4518 25755 Illinois Centre 214 51 31628 9.2720 0 0 

Chapter 9

                Jayla walked in on her while she was packing. "Natalia? What are you doing?" she asked, shocked to see the older girl up and packing. "The First Daughter told me that you were feeling ill."

                "Jayla I'm sorry, but I have to leave." _I seem to be saying that a lot lately,_ she thought grimly. "Now. It's important," she said as she cinched on her belt around her waist. She grabbed an oiled cloth and began to rub her daggers and throwing stars with it until she could see her reflection in them. 

                "Leave? But why?" Jayla asked, surprised.

                "Because, one of my friends is in trouble. And if there's one thing I've learned from him, it's that you don't turn your back on a friend. Even when you make stupid mistakes like I did." She continued to polish furiously, taking her anger out on dagger blade, until she realized that Jayla was still staring at her. "What?" she asked the novice impatiently.

                Where she had expected a look of offense and hurt, to her surprise, Jayla smiled. "You are truly a great friend. Whoever, your he is, your friend is blessed to have you."

                Nyah blushed. "Nonsense. I'm not that good a person, I couldn't be much of a friend."

                Jayla shook her head, insistent. "Believe me, I know a good friend when I see one. So," she said with a teasing glint in her eye. "Do you want help packing?"

                With Jayla's help, the two girls loaded the saddlebags onto Thunder and walked out in front of the House. "Thanks Jayla," Nyah said after she had mounted her mare, "I won't forget this."

                Jayla smiled shyly and put her hand to her throat. "Here," she said. "This is for you." From around her neck she produced a deerskin chain. Attached to it were a silver arrowhead, and three beads, two jade and the other gold. "It's my specialty," the young girl said. "I always excelled in jewelry."

                "Jayla," Nyah breathed. For all of its simplicity, it was a beautiful necklace. "I can't accept this," she said. But even as she spoke, she was already placing the deerskin chain over her head. 

                Jayla smiled. "You just did. Now go! And you tell that friend of yours he's very lucky."

                "Why?"

                "To have a friend like you." Without a last good-bye, she smacked Thunder's flanks and the horse took off into the night. "Good luck," a strange voice from inside Jayla said. It was godly, sounding like a breeze floating through the trees and a pure mountain stream. She smirked. "Nyah." 

Jayla's brown hair changed to dark black, long and flowing down her back. She grew taller and more beautiful as her clothing changed from the white dress of a novice to a green gown and gold sash. The crown of golden stars appeared on her head. Her eyes flashed a deep shade of blue then purple. "Good luck," Kiloa said again. Then, silent as the night she stood in, she vanished.

                Nyah had no time to wave back to Jayla for she was riding hard. She wouldn't stop on this ride and Thunder seemed to understand the urgency of the situation and ran as hard as she could. Nyah had left as soon as it was dark from the House and had yet to stop since then. She had used her Gift on Thunder and herself the whole time and she was exhausted. It was nearly dawn when she arrived at the city gates and the pass through was agonizingly slow. She kept her head ducked down and was barely noticed by the morning guards who were ready to fall asleep themselves from their night shifts. When reached the outskirts of the Lower City, she headed straight toward the Dancing Dove. She jumped off of Thunder before the mare had even slowed and went straight inside, leaving the horse to find its way to the stables.  

                Nyah looked around as she got in and saw that there was no one in the common room or at the bar. Not a soul was about, not even 'Fingers and he was always drinking. "Hello?" Nyah called out. No one answered. She ran across the abandoned room and thundered up the stairs to the inn's rooms. She didn't even knock as she swept right into George's room, using her magic to force the door open. Everyone looked up, shocked, and Eric, Leon, and Orem had their knives drawn, ready to attack.

                "Hold on!" Nyah said to the three. "Before you cut me to pieces, make sure you know if I'm foe or friend." So saying, she took off her hood and everyone gasped. Nyah looked around the room. Aside from the knife bearing other three, Rispah, Ercole, Scholar, 'Fingers, Marek, and Red Nell were also present. The women had tear streaked faces and lines of depression were creased in the men's. Rispah was the first one to get up and come over to her. 

"Nyah," she said, her voice cracking a bit. She swept the girl into a hug and there was a trace of a smile on her face when she let her go. 

Nyah had a tear roll down her cheek when she looked at the woman's hazel eyes, so like George's own. "I missed you," she whispered as she returned the hug. "I missed you so much!" 

When Nyah realized she was crying she hurriedly wiped away the tears and cleared her throat. "I heard was happened," she announced to the room quietly, "and I know whose fault it was." The others looked at her curiously. "Mine. If I had never been such an idiot and left like that, George wouldn't be in this mess." 

"Now come on Nyah," Eric said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It wasn' yer fault. Don' go blamin' yerself for other's mistakes."

Nyah looked up at him, pointedly. "Don't try and make me feel better, Eric. I already tried that and this is about as good as it got. You and everyone else here knows he went there because of me."

No one said anything, but Nyah could tell that they agreed. Everyone was avoiding her eyes and no one else spoke up in her defense.  "What'll we do?" Red Nell asked softly. "It don' matter who's fault it is, George'll find hisself in a spot on Traitor's Hill if we don' do somethin'." 

"What _can_ we do?" Leon asked angrily. "It's not like we can jus' go storm the Palace! We're thieves, Nell, not an army!"

"I know!" Nell snapped. "But I'd rather storm the Palace with a band a' Lower City thieves an' be attacked _by_ an army than sit back idle-like and do nothin'!" 

Leon opened his mouth to reply but Nyah cut him off. Tempers were high now; they had to do something before the Rogue fell apart entirely. "Leon, Nell, hold up!" Everyone turned to look at her. "I've had a long ride and if you're willing to listen, then I'll tell you what I've come up with." 

Nyah was in her room getting ready for that night when Rispah knocked on the door and came in. She sat down next to Nyah on the bed and watched as the young girl patiently polished her daggers and throwing stars until they shone. She fingered one of Nyah's long braids. "Nice hair," she commented. 

Nyah gave a small grin. "I was at the Mother House of the Sun and Moon the other day and a Gallan novice did it before dinner."

Rispah nodded and said, "Did the novice happen to tell you what that style means in Galla?" 

Nyah shook her head. "She only told me that noble ladies wore it awhile back there. Why? What's it mean?"

Rispah shrugged her shoulders and picked up an arrow and began to fletch it. "A long time ago in Galla, maybe two hundred years ago, there was a king who used to be a thief. He stole the throne from the reignin' king, one that was a tyrant. The Thief King took over and his daughter, Princess Jayla, was also a thief who had learned her trade from her father. She had wit that one, and plenty of spunk and beauty to go with it. They called her the Princess of Thieves, for she could not only steal goods, but also men's hearts. She was always stylin' her hair in different ways and one of the most popular was the full head of braids. 

"It used to be, awhile back that anyone who wore that style was a thief and so it was almost lost. No one remembers it anymore but they called it the Princess of Thieves. I'm surprised that novice didn' tell you more." She finished fletching the arrow. "But what'd I know? Just the silly stories of a twenty year old woman." She winked at Nyah and set down the arrow. "Call me when your ready for dinner." She left. Nyah stared at the door after she had gone, leaving her with a lot more to think about.

                That night after a hasty dinner, Nyah was ready to go. She stood out in the stables, with Eric, Ercole, Rispah, Leon, and Marek nearby. She had put on her thieving clothes, the loose black shirt and tight black pants. On her belt she had an assembly of weapons including a pouch filled with throwing stars, four daggers in the front of her, two at the small of her back incase she got into a tight spot, and two more on the inside of her boots. On her back were her longbow and her quiver of armor piercing arrows, fletched with eagle feathers, which were said to make the arrow fly truer every time. As she stood before everyone, holding onto her horse's reins with one hand, Rispah thought to herself, _That girl certainly looks like a Princess of Thieves. _

                "Everyone knows what to do?" Marek, Ercole, and Leon nodded their heads. Nyah tucked an escaped braid behind one ear in a businesslike fashion and mounted up. "Then let's ride!" She urged Thunder into a run, Marek, Ercole, and Leon behind her. "Good luck Nyah," Rispah whispered to herself as she walked into the inn. "Gods be with you."

                Girl and men rode through Corus at the fastest pace possible, green fire with multicolored sparks surrounding them all, silencing the horses' pounding hooves. The men watched the men watched the girl in front of them, cape and head of blond braids flying behind her in an eerily quiet movement. It was as though they were ghosts galloping above the ground. Nyah didn't stop or look back until they reached the secret entrance at the stables where they found Stephan waiting for them. After they placed the horses in the stalls, she took her Gift off of them, and the group began to speak in whispers. 

                "So everyone knows what to do?" Nyah asked for the last time.

                "Marek an' me'll get ye to the pages' wing of the Palace and keep watch by the door. Leon's to wait by the stables and keep eye out for anything unfamiliar. If that happens, he'll give us the signal and we're to-" Ercole swallowed and gritted his teeth, "we're to take George and leave."

                "That's right," Nyah said firmly. "And if you wait for me, all three of you'll be in for it and that's a fact." 

                "Nyah-" Leon started.

                "No, before you even ask," she said. "And don't make me say it again. Besides, if everything goes according to plan we won't have a problem. So are you ready?" The three men nodded their heads soberly.  "Then let's go."

                The four of them snuck out and left Leon at the door to the stables. Marek, Ercole, and Nyah crept toward the far left side of the Palace and around the corner. Nyah gave them the signal and the two men boosted her up into a windowsill. She cast her Gift over the glass and then smashed it with the hilt of her dagger. She watched as the shards fell to the floor with a loud smash that wasn't there. She slipped inside the window, edging past the pieces so she wouldn't slip. She nodded to Marek and set off down the hall. Here was the dangerous part. She couldn't use her Gift on herself, not now. She didn't know how powerful the locks that bound George would be and she wasn't taking any chances, especially after the long ride had taken such a toll on her Gift.

                Slipping as quiet as a cat, she crept down the hallway, checking the doors to make sure that no one was coming out to investigate. She had almost reached the end of the hall when a door creaked open. She gasped and turned, looking for a place to hide but there was nowhere to go. She watched in silent fear as a short person stepped out of the room and spun to see Nyah standing there. 

                Nyah swung out a dagger and was about to strike when a ball of purple fire flared in the person's hand. Nyah could see that the Gifted person had red hair and unusually purple eyes. Alan of Trebond also had a black hilted dagger in his hand and peered at Nyah's face. "Nyah!" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

                Nyah put a finger to her lips and muttered a spell that silenced the two of them._ So much for not using it,_ she thought. Now that he could speak at normal volume, Alan exploded. "Nyah! But George told me you had left and then he- how did you- gods!" he exclaimed and put the dagger away. 

                Nyah shook her head and also placed her dagger back in its sheath, loosely though. "Listen Alan, I don't have time to explain right now. I have to go find George. Do you know where they're holding him?"

                Alan nodded. "Down, just five floors below this. I'll help you. I-"

                "No. Alan you can't come with me."

                The thirteen-year-old boy looked indignant. "Why not? George is my friend too, after all."                         "I know he is but- Look I don't have time to explain. Just trust me, alright?" Alan studied her with purple eyes that almost seemed to glow with his magic. "Trust me," she repeated. She didn't have time for this! Every second was one second closer to running out of time, something they didn't have a lot of.

                "Alright," he said curtly. "Hurry up. I'll keep the hall clear." Nyah nodded and took the silencing spell off of them. 

She gave him a nod and hurried back down the hall to the stairs. Opening the door, she ran down the five flights of stairs, her boots a soft pat against the floor. When she at the top of the last flight, she jumped and landed soundlessly on the small corridor in the "frog position", something she learned from George, legs bent when she landed and one hand down to steady herself. "Thief, protect me," she whispered, as she stood at stepped over to the door. It was a solid oaken slab of wood, probably at least two inches thick. Nyah tried to twist the handle and found it locked. She whispered words and her emerald fire surrounded the knob and her hand. This time when she tried the knob, it twisted silently. Thanking the Thief that it wasn't magically locked and would require more power, Nyah opened the door no more than a crack and placed her eye to the door. 

The first thing she noticed was the feel of the room. It was much cooler and damp due to it being underground. The walls and floor were solid slabs of granite and the long hall was small, not leaving her much room for battle. It was lit not by candles or magic but by torches that left stains of soot and ash along the walls. Their flickering gave the dungeon an eerie, haunted feeling. _Fitting for a prison, I suppose, _Nyah thought grimly. Metal doors lined the walls with bars at head level so that you could see who was in the cells Nyah shuddered. at the thought of George being in one of these rat-infested holes. _Tortall is supposed to be a place of integrity, _she thought. _But I suppose that they don't care very much for their criminals. Definitely not, or they wouldn't leave their dungeons in such a state. Even the back ally rats' holes are better than this! _Anger burned insider her. George was better than an animal!

 She was about to push open the door when she heard a voice that made her shrink back. "Ho, so we do have the King of Thieves? Something I never thought old Provost could do."

Nyah looked to see who was talking. A heavily built man in a dirty tunic of the guard stood before one of the doors to the cells. Next to him were two others belittled by this muscular figure but nevertheless, still fear provoking. One was short and bony, his clothes hung on him improperly as though they were out of his size or didn't have it at the Palace tailors. His face was that of a rat's, in Nyah's opinion, eyes always darting around and his hair was straggly and unkempt. 

The second man was almost the exact opposite of the rat. His brown hair was cut and styled and his tunic and breeches fit to a T. He looked about the dungeon with an air of distaste. _He's good looking all right,_ Nyah thought insensitively. She couldn't afford to be sensitive, not now._ I wonder if he's noticed he looks like the realm's biggest snob?_  

"So are you comfortable 'Your Majesty'?" the Rat asked mockingly. "Shall we get you somethin' to make you feel more at home?" He spoke with a commoner's accent, all but erased from his years with the Guard.

The three Guards chuckled and the heavily built one, who seemed to be the leader, pulled a water skin from his belt. "Would you like some water 'Your Highness'?" He made to extend it through the bars then pulled it back quickly. "Oh no wait I'm sorry," he said as his two cohorts laughed. "But his 'Majesty's' not to have food or drink. Darn the luck!" he said in mock indignation. 

Whatever anger Nyah had before, flared into white-hot fury, blinding her. "Come on Hugo," the Snob said with disgust. "I can't bear to be here longer than I have to. After all," he said to George through the bars. "_I'm_ not the one who's going to have his body swinging from the noose on Traitor's Hill come tomorrow at sunset."

Nyah didn't think about her odds, three full grown men who had swords and were better trained than she against a mere girl. The rage that was a ticking time bomb inside of her exploded and she shot out of the stairwell and into the narrow hall with a cry, daggers drawn. The men were unsurprised but quick to react. Nyah attacked Hugo first, swinging her daggers down the way George had taught her. She dug deep into his arm before he could attack back and she felt an ugly sensation of pleasure when she heard his cry of pain. One of the men, the Rat she thought, grabbed her from behind and put her in an arm lock. She tried to hit his instep with her foot but it was too dark to see. She saw the Snob coming at her with his fist raised. Thinking quickly, Nyah swung her foot out hard and hit him below the belt. He doubled over and fell. Nyah could hear the Rat's dagger sliding out of its sheath. She rammed her head into his as hard as she could. He also fell, knocked unconscious by the blow, blood running freely from his nose. She was dazed by her desperate move but shook herself to clear it. "I always knew I had a thick skull," she said to herself. 

The Snot came back again and Nyah yanked three throwing stars from her pouch at her waist. She began to run down the hall back past George's cell and the Snot came after her. Suddenly, she jumped and spun her body around in midair, throwing the five-pointed steel stars as she did so. Two of them missed their target by centimeters, but one aimed true and stuck in his arm. He cried out and swore in pain and Nyah took advantage of the split second of his distraction and rammed her fist full force into his face, and again in his stomach. He fell and slammed his head onto the stone, knocked out cold. 

 She saw the two men down looked around hurriedly, trying to find the third, but it was hard to see much of anything in the dimly lit hallway that was narrow and not the best place to battle.  Suddenly something hit her hard from behind and she fell down, unconscious. Hugo stood behind her, one arm bleeding heavily from her blow at the beginning of the fight. He slid a bloody dagger back into its sheath with his good arm. "You want to join your King, girl?" he growled. "Have fun. It only mean a bonus for me." He unlocked the door to the cell and threw the unconscious girl down the stairs inside. The final slam of the steel door signified her doomed fate. 

Nyah blinked and opened her eyes only to find a hazy blackness surrounding her. She closed her eyes again and opened. This time she could make out the stone patterns of the walls and ceiling. _How odd. Why is a ceiling on the floor?_ She thought dreamily. _I'm so tired. I think I'll go back to sleep now. Just sleep. _She closed her eyes and suddenly a thought jolted her awake. _George! _

Nyah rolled over and groaned. Her head felt so heavy! "Nyah? Nyah! Nyah are you all right?" a male voice said. 

George! "Of course not, you dolt!" she moaned as she struggled to sit up. It was especially difficult as her ankles and hands were chained together and her hands chained to the wall. She looked down and swore a vile oath, when she saw that her pouch of stars, quiver and bow, and the four visible daggers that were on her belt were gone. The cause for pain in the back of her head was the fact that Hugo had swung the broad side of his dagger and knocked her out, but part of the blade had bit into her skin. The cut had slowed to a light trickle down the back of her scalp and she guessed that her blond braids were stained a rusty red in the back. 

She looked over at George and blinked several times to get her vision clear. Once it was, she saw in the dim torchlight that he sat on the dirty floor next to her and was chained in the same fashion. He had a cut above one eye that was black and blue. Another cut was on his lip and he had numerous bruises on his face. His hair was matted and dirty; the same went for his clothes. Tears welled up in his eyes as he smiled at her. "Gods, have I missed hearing you say that."

"You think up odd things to miss," she told him sarcastically, though she couldn't help smiling. Tears gathered in her eyes as well. "I missed you too," she whispered. She leaned against him, all that she could do. The chains that bound her wrists together were only six inches long, or she would've hugged him forever. "What'd they do to you?" she asked him gently, reaching up and brushing a lock of his hair out of a dirty cut. Concern was etched deep in her emerald eyes. "Surely King Roald doesn't allow this?"

George shook his head and winced. Nyah realized how much pain her friend had been through when he opened his mouth and the cut on his lip cracked and bled freely, although he didn't seem to notice it. "No, Roald doesn' allow it, but he doesn' know about it either. The guards here, especially the ones you tangled with, most of 'em don' care about the prisoners. They'll come in and beat a man with his arms tied behind his back and deprive him of food and drink just to watch him suffer." He spat on the stones in front of him, his saliva mixing with blood. "Them that do aren't worthy of the gods' blessings. No decent man hits another while he's down."

Nyah looked at him and began to cry silently. "If I would've know that, I would've never have left."

George looked at her. "Why did you come back?" he asked. "I thought you never second-guessed yourself."

"I also never go back on my word and I _did _swear to never turn my back on the Rogue." George sniffed. "Oh come on, George. You and the Rogue, your like family to me."

"Well then why did you come back on your own? It was plain foolish to attack those three guards and you know it."

Nyah's quick temper flared up again. "Well, what was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait until I found you swinging from a noose on Traitor's Hill?" Seeing George's hurt face, she knew she had struck a fear that he had been trying to put out of his mind for days.  

"I'm sorry," she said, all tenderness again. 'You know I have a short temper. It's just that I feel so- stupid for leaving! I should've stayed and none of this ever would've happened." She sighed and heard the squeak of the rats in the corners. "Let's get out of here," she said, "These rats are starting to make me feel like a piece of cheese." George nodded in agreement and Nyah spoke the words that would make her lock picking magic come alive. 

When she finished, she pulled on the cuffs. "What the-" Her eyes grew wide. They were still locked! She tugged harder, but no avail. "George it won't work!" she exclaimed. 

"_What?_ Try again!" he urged. "Maybe you weren't concentrating hard enough."

This time, she kept her eyes shut and looked deep inside her for the emerald green fire, but to her shock, she couldn't find it. She swore a string of Scanran words that made George look at her with admiration. "George," she exclaimed as she opened her eyes. "They drained me! They drained my Gift!"

He looked at her, disbelieving, then stared at his hands. "Then it's hopeless," he said after a minute. 

They sat in silence together for a moment, each thinking about how even though they were together it was the last time they would ever see each other. With luck, Nyah would be put to work in the spice or silver mines and George- Nyah gulped, thinking of his fate- George wouldn't live long enough to even go to the spice mines. The punishment for his workings were solid as the locks on her wrists. Amid a rustle of chain, Nyah put her elbows on her knees. "Kiloa," she whispered. "Please help us! Please!" A tear rolled down her cheek. "Please," she whispered, her voice audible only to herself. However, nothing happened. Nyah put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. George was right; it was hopeless.

 She felt something tug on the front of her collar and watched as the necklace Jayla had given her slipped out from under her shirt and dangled in front of her. The silver arrowhead and beads glinted gently.  "Please." 

Suddenly, the all the colors of the rainbow flashed inside that sliver arrowhead, just the way the Young Goddess's eyes did when she gave her that strange power. Her arm- her scar- was pulsating in a steady beat. The colors flashed brighter and faster and- wait, was the necklace, _humming?_ "George!" she exclaimed. She jerked up her head.

"What?" he asked.

She held up the deerskin chain. "Look, my neck-" she stopped short and looked down. The arrowhead was plain sliver again and she couldn't feel the vibrations anymore. "Never mind," she said bitterly. "I should've known she would've abandoned me. You know I- what?"

George was staring at her with his jaw dropped. "Nyah," he said shakily. "L-look at your hands."

"Why what's wrong with... them?" Her jaw dropped just as George's had. The six-inch chain that had shackled her hands together was cut in two. "How in the Goddess's great name?" she wondered. The arrowhead around her neck gave a faint pulse and suddenly she knew. "George! George, it's my necklace!" she said excitedly. 

"What about it?" He looked bemused, as though it was all too much for him.

"Look I don't have time to explain right now but it's magic and it cuts through metal."

"You're kiddin' me," he said.

"Watch." She took the necklace off and used the arrowhead against her ankle chains like a butter knife. Sure enough, the chain was sliced clean through in a shower of sparks. "See?"

George looked at her and smiled. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's get moving."  
  


Nyah quickly cut off the chains at the cuffs so that they wouldn't jingle when they walked. She also began to feel dizzy from the cut in the back of her head and she pulled a dagger from her boot, one that the guard had missed. She sliced the sleeves of her blouse and tied them about her head. George looked at her and remarked that she looked like a K'miri boy, a headband about their foreheads and a sleeveless shirt. 

George had told her that she had been thrown in for about two hours and that the sun would rise in about three more. That left her with only a few hours of darkness to escape. The others should still be there; she had told them not to leave their posts till George was out or the sun rose. If it did, they were sunk. So that was it. A race against the sun.

Nyah and George put their plan into action as soon as they were ready. Nyah hid right next to the door, pressing herself against it so she wouldn't be seen. With a wink, George sat back where he was and placed the chains by his hands and feet so it would look as though he were still in captivity. He yelled out through the bars to the guard on duty. "Help! Someone come quick! Hurry!" 

The guard came over to investigate and George yelled to him, "Hurry! She just fell over and I can' get her back up again!" The guard nodded and unlocked the cell door. As soon as he was inside, Nyah jumped him. They fell to the floor and George quickly pulled the guard up by the hair and punched him in the face. He fell to the ground and the keys dropped from his hands with a gratifying clink. 

Nyah swiped them up from the ground and smiled. "No decent man may hit someone from behind but whoever said anything about a woman?" 

"Who needs the Gift when you can punch? Let's go," George said. 

"What you don't like rat-infested cell rooms? I personally think that the chains on the walls and the spiders give it that homey feeling." 

"Do you want to stay?" he asked her solemnly, although his eyes danced. 

"Um, no,'' she replied just as solemnly.

"Then let's go!" 

"Okay."

The two of them left the dungeon up the same staircase that Nyah had taken down, both being as silent as possible. When they reached the pages' wing, they looked about to see that no one was in the halls. When they were sure, they made a break for the window at the other end. They were almost there when someone grabbed their wrists. Nyah's hand automatically moved for her dagger at the small of her back and tossed the other to George. They both turned to face their foe, only to see Alan standing there. He motioned for them to follow him and they slipped into his room. 

"You can't go back that way," Alan told them. "It's guarded. Marek and I talked before they came to check for reinforcements. Go back the way you came, up four more flights of stairs and you'll be in one of the astronomy towers. There's the outer wall tower across from it. Shoot your arrow and rope across and Marek'll tie it and you two can swing over. Then you can scale down the outside wall and get out."

"I always knew I could count on you, laddy!" George said as he smiled at Alan. "I don' know how I'll ever thank you. _Either _of you," he said looking at Nyah. 

"Thank us later," she said. "We've only got an hour till sunrise and this castle gets into full swing." George nodded and headed toward the door. Suddenly Nyah thought of something. "Alan, I don't have my-"  

"One step ahead of you," he interrupted. From the bed her produced her quiver and longbow. Nyah took them gratefully and ran her hand over the smooth shaft. "Thanks," she said softly. 

"Just go," Alan said, smiling. Nyah nodded and the two of them headed out the door and back up the stairs, just as Alan told them. 

They opened the door and sure enough it was an empty astronomy tower.  George watched as Nyah went over to the arrow loop and took careful aim at the far tower's loop across. Although her target was two hundred yards away and only six inches wide, they didn't call her an expert shot for nothing. He smiled when he heard the arrow hit the stone in the other side. Nyah handed him the rope and he felt a tug from the other side. 

"Ready?" she asked him. He nodded. She placed her bow in his hands and he slung it on his shoulder and placed an arrow between his teeth. "Okay you go first and shoot it back to me, then sent it over again."

                He climbed up into arrow loop and wrapped the rope around his hands. "Kiloa please let this work!" he heard Nyah whisper. He was going to ask who Kiloa was but the arrow in his teeth prevented him from talking. 

He closed his eyes and jumped. It was like flying. He soared through the air with ease as if he were born to do it. When he came toward the wall, he bent his knees and bounced on impact. When the rope stopped swinging, he climbed up the rest of the way into the tower.

                As soon as he was up, Marek swept him into a bone-crushing embrace. "You did it!" 

                "Shhh, you dolt!" he scolded, although he was smiling as well. "Give me the rope and let me shoot back to Nyah." He shot and waited for the tug from Nyah. But it never came.

                As soon as Nyah tied the rope down, she heard a loud slam that made her jump. She looked up and whipped out her daggers only to find that it was pointless. Five men of the guard in armor stormed into the astronomy tower, swords drawn. "Give up the rope girl and get your King to come back over and there's a deal to be made," one demanded. 

                Nyah looked at him with a steely glint in her eye. "No!" she cried out. 

                "Do it now!" the he commanded, "Or you'll find yourself at the mercy of the Crown!" 

                Nyah paused and stared at the men, then looked out through the arrow loop, her only way to freedom. It was pointless to take it now. As soon as she jumped, they would cut the rope. She slowly walked toward the window, the guards thinking she was going to give the signal for George to come back over. 

                Suddenly, she swung out a dagger from the small of her back and cut the rope, preventing George from crossing back. And her only means of escape. "George, Marek, run!" she screamed out of the arrow loop. "Run!" 

                It was the last thing she could say before the guards tackled her to the ground and she was knocked unconscious by the flat of a heavy broadsword.

_AN: OK you all probably hate me right now but don't worry! I swear that I'll get the last and final chapter up ASAP! I PROMISE! Until then, review, reread and continue to hate me until chapter ten comes out._                                      -"Max"


	10. Princess of Thieves

Chapter 10  
  
"Run!" George heard the desperate scream from the other side of the tower and then the clank of armor as Nyah's voice was cut off.  
  
"Nyah!" George ran to the edge of the arrow loop and grabbed the rope that she had cut. He was about to shoot it back to the other side when Marek grabbed him from behind. George fought his hold. "Get off me!" he yelled.  
  
"George, we have to go!" Marek insisted. "It's dawn in twenty minutes!" Sure enough, the sky was beginning to lighten and George could dimly see the other side of the grounds.  
  
"I don' care!" he yelled. "Let me go!" Tears rolled down his cheeks and he still tried to break Marek's grip but his friend held firm. Normally, George could've thrown the younger man off him easy, but his time the dungeon had taken its toll. Marek swung him around and pushed George halfway down the outer stairs that would lead to their freedom.  
  
"Look, we can't do anythin' durin' daylight. We'll come back for her; I promise! She said to leave without her and I don' go back on my word any more'n you do! We'll come back!"  
  
George looked at him hard and finally gave a short, curt nod. They ran down the stairs together where Leon waited with two horses. George mounted up and rode double behind Marek. If either of the two men saw their leader look back at the Palace with tearing eyes, they didn't say a word.  
  
Nyah awoke in a cell like the one she and George had been placed in. She sat up, and groaned as her head throbbed. She swayed and toppled over, knocking her already battered skull onto the dirty stone floor. Wincing, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. When she was sure she could sit up again without falling, she did so. Not to her surprise, she found that her hands and feet were chained again. She reached up to her throat for her necklace and gasped. The deerskin strip wasn't there! She searched the floor of her prison, but no avail.  
  
After looking in every nook and cranny of the small cell, she sighed and drew her knees up to her chest. It probably got cut off when they knocked me with that sword, she thought absently. She cried and let her tears run down her cheeks freely. It didn't matter; no one would see her cry. No one was with her. "And I'll die like this too," she whispered. "With no one I care about with me."  
  
Eleni Cooper made it clear that George wasn't to be disturbed the rest of the day. He could barely stand when Leon and Marek brought him to her and the two men had to support him on either side to get him up the stairs. Eleni felt increasing worry for her son as she tended his wounds. He had several bruises all over his face, chest, and stomach, the size of a man's fist, along with various cuts; one or two were infected from being in the dungeons for the past three days.  
  
Towards the afternoon, the infections developed a wild fever that raged throughout his body, bringing sweat to his pale face. Rispah helped her aunt care for George and she was just as nervous about her cousin as Eleni was. All through the day, and late into the night, the two women stayed with him, trying all the remedies they could think of; however, the fever remained.  
  
They could hear him talk in his sleep, thrashing about in the bed, his face twisted with a mixture of agony and fear. Often, they would hear him mutter over and over again: "No, no, no! Don't take her! Stop! No!" He would pant as though he were running a race; sweat continued to pour off his body.  
  
Finally, Eleni, so concerned about her son's health, took a small knife and heated it over the fire. She opened a cut in the young man's forearm, right next to the veins that carried blood throughout the body. Rispah shuddered as she watched; she hated when Eleni had to inject medicine into someone this way, but they had tried everything else. This was the fastest way to get the medicine throughout the body; even faster than if she had just injected it into the blood. Eleni uncapped a small vial of clear yellow liquid and slipped some of it into a medicinal needle. Rispah winced as Eleni gently thrust it into a blue vein. At least George was sleeping while it was going on. Rispah recalled the time when she was younger and her aunt had been forced to do the same thing to her niece while she was awake. When the needle's chamber was empty, she wound a bandage around George's arm.  
  
For all the uneasy feelings the treatment caused Rispah, she was relieved to see that the action had produced results. After an hour of prayer to the Goddess, George's fever went down and his wild dreams stopped. He lay peacefully in the bed, breathing easily now. Rispah sighed, placed a cool cloth on his forehead, and turned back to the fire, staring at its depths, wondering what she and the Rogue did to deserve all this.  
  
Nyah jumped when she heard the crack of the granite ball against the bronze disk and stood, chains rattling as the prayer to Mithros was spoken. As the rest of the congregation prayed that justice be done, Nyah prayed that the Thief and Kiloa would protect her now. "We are here to acknowledge the criminal acts of this young woman called Nyah, and to judge her…" The Magistrate's voice droned on and Nyah glanced out at the crowd.  
  
She was surrounded by four armed Guards and shackled at her wrists and hands. Many more people had turned up at her trial than she thought would. Lords and their ladies came to watch, curious as to whom this mere girl was that managed to steal from Lord Provost and get away with it for half a year. Nyah looked on the other side of the aisle and gulped. It seemed that Lord Gareth the Elder had decided to bring the pages to her trial as a learning experience. She didn't see a smile or sympathetic look from anyone in the room, except for one boy who was avoiding looking at her. Alan stared at the floor, nervous. No one could know that he had helped Nyah and she knew that as well as he. She was on her own.  
  
"Girl!" The Lord Magistrate's voice snapped through the air like a whip. "Did you or did you not help the King of Thieves escape the Palace in the early morning of three days ago?"  
  
"My name's Nyah," she snapped. A Guard nudged her hard from behind with the butt of his short spear, but she ignored it. She wasn't going to be civil to anyone of the Crown. They had treated George as though he were nothing more than an animal! They wouldn't get anything from her.  
  
The Magistrate looked at her coldly. "You'd best answer the questions truthfully, missy." He gestured to a man in a blue robe. "We do have a Truth Speaker if you are unwilling to do so."  
  
Nyah scowled at the mage. "Then I just won't answer."  
  
The Magistrate glared at her hard. "You had better," he said. "Or else."  
  
Nyah glanced at Alan from the corner of her eye. His face was like a stone, but his deep violet eyes pleaded. "Fine," she muttered grudgingly. "Yes. What's it to you?"  
  
Her judge ignored her remark and scribbled something down on a piece of paper. "Did you or did you not steal from various merchant stalls in the Market, the counting houses, the silver mines, and Lord Provost's manor?"  
  
"'Steal' is such a harsh word," she said in mock indignation. "I prefer to think of it as borrowing without asking and no intention of returning."  
  
"Don't try to be coy with me girl," he warned her. "I am not here to play games."  
  
She pretended she hadn't heard him. "But if it's the best your empty- headed, noble mush for insides brain can come up with, well I guess we'll have to go with it." She felt another hard jab of the spear in her back.  
  
"I will not tolerate this from a commoner- a female commoner at that!"  
  
"Excuse me but this 'female commoner' has a name! It's Nyah, can't you get that straight?"  
  
"Silence!" the Magistrate yelled. Nyah noticed with satisfaction that his face was turning a deep shade of red. The congregation sat with shock on their faces. They had never seen a Magistrate lose his temper before! Then again, they probably had never heard such a sharp-tongued criminal before either.  
  
The Magistrate took a deep breath. "Do you or do you not bear the scar of the Rogue, girl?"  
  
That silenced Nyah. If they find out that I have the scar, she thought, they could use me to get to George! But I can't lie! Oh Kiloa, help me!  
  
"Well?" the judge said impatiently. "Speak up girl!"  
  
When she remained silent, the Magistrate snapped his fingers. The twenty-two year old soldier that had jabbed her from behind with his spear reached for her arm and yanked it forward roughly. She struggled as he straightened out her bare arm and looked at the crook of her elbow. He grinned as he saw the shiny scar against her dark tan skin. "Aye my lord," he said. "She's got it." He loosened his grip on her arm and she yanked it out of his hold. The judge nodded, clearly pleased and scribbled a note down on his parchment.  
  
"Bastard," she called the Guard under her breath, rubbing the arm that was sore from where he had gripped it so hard.  
  
He nudged her in the back so hard that she almost lost her balance. "I heard that whore," he muttered back.  
  
"Listen wrench," the Magistrate said. "Robbing from nobles, citizens, mines, and money houses as well as breaking into the Palace, freeing a prisoner and being a traitor and a danger to the Crown, your punishment have been decided. However, if you reveal where the Rogue is located and its main operatives, we will reconsider. So? What is your decision?"  
  
Nyah sighed and stared at the floor. "Very well," she said quietly. "Write this down." The judge got out a fresh sheet of parchment and smiled eagerly. Nyah spelled out each letter slowly and carefully. "S, S, A, Y, M, S, S, I, K. Got that?" she asked.  
  
The Magistrate nodded his head. "Yes, yes but this is just a jumble of letters!" he said impatiently.  
  
"Reverse it," she said.  
  
"K, I, S, S," He spelled and read each word aloud so that all the congregation could hear that he knew first where the King of Thieves and his Rogue Court resided. The honor to him would be tremendous. He continued with a satisfied smile on his face. "M, Y, A, S, S. Kiss my… ass?!"  
  
His eyes grew wide and he face changed from white, to blue, to purple, to red. She heard snickers from the pages behind her; Alan was looking at her with admiration in his eyes. Nyah smirked.  
  
"That's right you pompous bastard," she said bitterly. No one stopped her, for even the Guards were too shocked to react. They stared at her, stunned. "Kiss my ass! Kiss my little 'female commoner' ass! I'll never tell you; I'd rather die than betray the only family that's ever loved me!"  
  
Everyone gaped at this girl who dared to defy the Crown. Unfortunately, the Magistrate recovered his wits first. "That can be arranged," he said coldly. "Guard! Take her back to her cell!"  
  
The Guard Nyah had called a bastard rushed forward and grabbed her arm, eager to use more brute force on the girl. As he half walked, half drug her out of the courtroom, Nyah glanced around the room and saw that there was not one friendly face among the crowd except for Alan, and he was of no help to her now.  
  
Meanwhile, back in the Lower City, George was sitting up in bed and his wits were intact once again. "Mother, I'm fine," George told Eleni for what felt like the millionth time.  
  
George's mother shook her head and handed him a cup of medicine. "Drink. We'll see how you feel tonight." Seeing George's despairing face, she softened a bit. "Don't worry. Nyah's a strong young woman. She'll be all right."  
  
He gave a small, bleak grin. "I hope your right, Mother. I really hope your right."  
  
"I know I am. If you're better tonight, you can go back to the common room with the rest of your Court. Now finish that and get some sleep." With that she left, shutting the door quietly behind her.  
  
George looked down at the vile concoction in the cup. He grimaced, shut his eyes tight, and gulped it down.  
  
Down in the common room, in a small dim corner by the fire, Rispah was talking quietly with Alan. "You're kiddin' me! She truly said that?"  
  
Alan nodded his head vigorously. "I swear by the gods she did! And Mithros, did my Lord Magistrate's face turn a shade of purple! Had a Guard drag her right out of the courtroom, and threw her back to her cell."  
  
Rispah sighed and buried her head in her hands. "That girl will never learn."  
  
"She'd rather die than betray the George and the Rogue, you know that."  
  
"What was the sentence?" Rispah asked, knowing all too well what the dreaded answer was. "Death," Alan whispered, not meeting her eyes. "A hanging on Traitor's Hill, two days from now at sunset."  
  
"Oh, Goddess," she whispered. After a moment she asked quietly, "What'd we do?"  
  
"I don't know," Alan said. "I've tried everything to figure out which cell she's in but they've got her locked up some place not even Jon knows about."  
  
The young woman made a decision. "Listen to me." Rispah grabbed Alan shoulders as she spoke. "When you go up to George, don't mention anythin' about this. If he asks about the trial, don' say anythin' about what she said or the sentence, say that nothin's been announced yet. He's just now gettin' his strength back; those gods' damned dungeons of theirs took their toll on him. You understand me younglin'?"  
  
Alan nodded. "Don't worry, I won't say a word."  
  
"Good." She let go and Alan left the common room and stampeded up the stairs in a hurry to see George.  
  
Rispah picked up her tankard and took a sip, sinking back into her chair. She stared into the fire, not noticing that a tear rolled down her face.  
  
Nyah had no idea what time it was or where she was. She only knew that it was late, she was cold and hungry, and chained to the wall of a cell. Her whole body was one big ache from the beatings the Guard gave her.  
  
"Call me a bastard, will you common born prostitute? Your 'Court' killed my brother you bitch! You'll pay for its crimes!" he had said in anger. He hit her over and over again, in her stomach, her sides, her face, and her breasts. "I bet you spread your legs for every man in the Lower City don't you? Don't you?" he ranted at her. Time and time again she screamed and yelled at him, calling him vile and obscene names in Common and in Scanran, and swearing bloody oaths she had learned when she was younger from merchants who had caught her rummaging in their goods. However, he left only when he was satisfied, leaving her a bruised and bloody heap on the floor.  
  
Now she knew that it was late. She had been in that cell for hours and her stomach growled constantly. She sat there on the cold stone floor and gritted her teeth, mad at the guard, mad at Kiloa, mad at herself. She had to go and be stupid and try to be hero. And now she would die for it. She knew what the punishment was for what she had done; she didn't need a Magistrate to tell her that. She would've gotten the spice mines if she had betrayed the Rogue but she couldn't do that. No, she had to act noble and be the hero. She smiled grimly as she remembered the Magistrate's face and the shock of the congregation when she made her little speech. That'd be something to remember. I'll have to think about it when I'm swinging from the noose tomorrow, she thought grimly.  
  
"Gods, I am such a fool! Why?" she yelled to the heavens. "You tell me, what did I do to deserve this? I hate you, all of you; I don't care if you strike me down, it'll only save me from being swung up tomorrow! Damn you all!" After she ranted and raved at the gods, she finally curled up on the floor in a tight ball and fell asleep.  
  
She dreamt a lot that night and she began to wonder if Gainel the King of Dreams was trying to torment her with things that she knew she couldn't have. The first dream was of the day she woke in the Dancing Dove. She remembered her eyelashes fluttering open and George sitting next to her, talking in that cocky way he did when he was being sarcastic. She remembered how much she hated him then, how spiteful she was. Next she saw Rispah and herself, walking down the street together, laughing and joking. Then she saw all of them together sitting around the fire in the Dancing Dove, 'Fingers, Red Nell, Rispah, Orem, Shem, Leon, Marek, Eric, Ercole, Scholar, Solom, herself, and of course, George sitting in the biggest chair. All of them were drinking and laughing together, just the way things used to be.  
  
Then came nightmares. She was in George's room, invisible. She saw George, writhing and twisting in his bed, his pale face surrounded by sweat. She could see his mouth form words but no sound would come out. She reached out an arm and tried to touch him but as soon as she came close, the dream vanished again. She reappeared in the same fashion, back in the field with her father when she was six. She watched, helpless, as the raiders swooped down, and shot her father. She screamed and heard two screams. She saw her six-year-old self cry out at the same time. She cried as she watched her younger self ride off, four of the raiders following.  
  
The whole night continued that way. She tried and she tried, but no matter what she did, she couldn't dream of anything that didn't make her cry in her sleep. In the morning, she realized that she would rather be beaten by the Guard a hundred times over than experience another night of torture like that.  
  
"At sunset, tonight," Rispah murmured to George in the common room, after a warm welcome from the rest of the Rogue. He was feeling much better and Eleni had let him come down to visit. His strength was returning quickly thanks to the medicine, although he still looked wan. However now, he felt ill again listening to his cousin.  
  
"Rispah, if this is a joke, it's a sick one," George warned.  
  
"Would I joke about somethin' like this?" she asked him. "Alan told me himself."  
  
"Where's she being held?" he asked after a moment.  
  
"Not even Johnny knows the answer to that one."  
  
"So let me get this straight. We don't know where she's being held, we don't know how she is at all, and she's being-" -he faltered over the next word- "executed tonight at sunset? Do I have all that right?" Rispah nodded. "Then we'd better think of something," he sighed.  
  
That afternoon, George assembled the whole of the Rogue in the common room. The total number was around thirty members, consisting of the men who stole, from the oldest who knew kings from when the Rogue was barely begun, to the newest, youngest members who were still working on their pick pocketing skills. The ladies of the Rogue stood with Rispah in their "appalling" dresses of deep reds, blues, greens, and purples. However, as the men and women stared at their king, so recently returned to them by the only thieving girl in the Rogue, they were all somber as the thought of Nyah made everyone shed a tear without meaning to.  
  
"Listen up, cause I'm only sayin' this once," George said as he sat on his "throne". "Three hours from now, I'm takin' twenty-five of you men with me up to Traitor's Hill. We'll get Nyah then, I don' know how but we're gonna do it or die tryin'."  
  
The assemblage of criminals gave an involuntary shudder, but not one of them disagreed with George. They all loved Nyah so much and there was no way they wouldn't do anything to save her from the awful fate that would be hers unless they did something.  
  
However, there was some concern about their king. "Majesty, beggin' yer pardon, are ye well enough to go?" a woman asked.  
  
"I don' care but if I did, I'd go anyway. I don' have a choice, Colette. Jus' like she didn'," he said tersely. He couldn't stop beating himself up about Nyah's capture, no matter how hard he tried.  
  
"Any other questions?" No one spoke. "Good. Now here's the men that're comin' with me…"  
  
Nyah stumbled numbly down the dirt pathway, pushed along by the guards behind her. After four days without food or water, she was pale as a ghost and about as healthy as one. Her hands were tied behind her back not with chains but with simple rope. Had she been able to, she would've tried to break free, but she could barely stand to walk. An escape attempt would've been pointless, especially since she was unarmed and guards and about one hundred people who hated her just because she was a thief. However, the food deprivation, beatings, and hatred did little to dampen her temper. She glared at the large, jeering crowd that had gathered to watch the hanging- my hanging, she thought. But I don't care anymore. I hate them. I hate them all!  
  
When she reached the scaffold, she stopped for a moment, looking at the noose blowing innocently in the breeze. Underneath it was a stool on which she was to stand. She had seen so many of these before in the various towns and realms she had traveled throughout during her all too short fifteen years. She knew how it worked. She would be made to stand on the stool and a Guard would slip the noose around her next and tighten it. They would read her sentence for the entire crowd to hear, and then signal a drummer. On the third strike, they'd kick the stool out from underneath her feet.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted when a Guard grabbed her arm and attempted to pull her up the steps. She jerked out of his grasp and growled at him. Lifting her chin, she ascended the steps like a princess would. And I am a princess, she thought rebelliously. A princess of thieves. And they can all kiss my royal ass.  
  
Her boots thudded softly on the wooden platform and she stepped on onto the stool, the sinking sun at her back. She took a deep breath. She had accepted her fate. She had prayed night and day that her death would at least come quickly. Consider it my last request, she prayed silently. The soldier that had beat her the previous days, took it upon himself to grab the noose. He leaned close to her ear. "Die bitch," he whispered. He slipped the noose around her neck and tightened it.  
  
George along with his men stood amidst the crowd on Traitor's Hill. He and the others were dressed as peasants, weapons hidden amongst their clothing. Leon and a few others carried staffs, bows and arrows openly; they wouldn't cause commotion with just those. George hid his sword underneath his cape; he was the only one daring enough to carry one, as peasants weren't allowed them.  
  
He and Leon stood in the front of the crowd on the far left side. The rest of the men were spread out in the front of the mess of people, whom were all jeering loudly. He watched as Nyah stumbled up the steps to the stool, half supported by the Guards surrounding her. He could tell that they had probably given her worse treatment that they gave him. One eye was black and swollen and her bare arms were black and blue. The headband/bandage that she had first put on had long since fallen off and George saw the rust red color of her braids in the back of her head. She had bruises and cuts all over her just like he did and he could tell she hadn't eaten in several days.  
  
He grimaced as he watched one of the guards slid the noose on her neck. He yearned to leap up onto the scaffold and cut Nyah free, but he held himself back. Timing was key; one move too quick or too late and it might mean the noose for them all. Instead, he looked at Leon and nodded. Leon silently pulled an arrow from the quiver at his feet and nocked it onto the string of his bow at his side.  
  
Nyah only half listened to the man reading her sentence as she wriggled her hands behind her back. The course rope was rubbing her wrists raw and even though it hurt to twist her hands around, slowly but surely, the rope's vice like grip was loosening.  
  
"…and so the thief, being a traitor and danger to the Crown, will be executed for his- her crimes, at sundown of this, the twentieth day, two months before the celebration of Midwinter." The man finished reading from the scroll and rolled it up in a businesslike fashion. He turned to Nyah and she lifted her head. "This is your last chance, girl," he said coldly. "Do you repent and throw yourself at the Crown's mercy?"  
  
Nyah glared at him, the blood red sun slowly sinking behind her, making her defiant stare all the more rebellious. Then, she spit on the wood planks in front of his feet. She said nothing; no words could equal the icy stare she gave. "Very well then." He nodded to a large, heavyset man with a drum.  
  
He hit the drum hard once. Boom! Nyah took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, trying to remember what it felt like. In and out. In and out. The air rushing throughout her lungs, cool and refreshing. She felt a breeze play with an escaped braid and she watched with a newfound fascination at the way it swung gently in the air, not too fast and not too slow.  
  
Boom! She looked down at the wood planks and thought of the trees they came from. She saw her own boots, and she wriggled her toes, seeing the leather move slightly. To her surprise, she felt a drop of wetness on her cheek and thought about how the tear felt on her face, like a raindrop on a windowpane. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "To the gods, I give my soul."  
  
Boom! It all happened so suddenly she could barely register what was happening. The sturdy stool underneath her feet was kicked out and she felt the noose tighten unbearably. She gasped, kicking her legs frantically. She tried to draw a breath but couldn't. She could feel all the life in her drawn out as though that rope around her neck was pulling it out.  
  
Suddenly the pressure around her neck stopped. She began to fall down and instinct had her twisting her wrists hard, trying to get them in front of her. Everything was moving so slowly; she felt her hands slip from the bonds. She watched as they slowly swung out in front of her and hit the wooden planks.  
  
Thud! The smack of the wood jolted her back to reality. She choked and gasped, taking in huge amounts of air. She couldn't get enough of it. As she drunk in the life giving oxygen, she heard Guards rushing towards her. She looked up and tried to stand but couldn't. She was too tired to move; the lack of air had slowed her down tremendously. She looked up at the one in front of her.  
  
Suddenly, he was gone. In his place, Nyah looked up into deep hazel eyes in the concerned face she knew so well. "George," she sputtered, still not used to breathing again, "Help me!" He didn't answer and at first she didn't think he heard her as he took out another of the six soldiers that surrounded her with his sword. Then, he yelled out something she couldn't understand and suddenly, Leon, Marek, and Eric were up on the platform with them, Marek and Leon attacking with large staffs and Eric twisting and moving with the grace of a dancer with his daggers. Soon, the six Guards were on the ground and George let out another call. Nyah looked into the crowd and, to her surprise, saw that there were more men in the jumble of people battling guards.  
  
It was pure chaos on the Hill. Commoners were screaming and running down the grassy knoll, afraid of the battle that was ensuing. The thieves were far fewer in number than the Guards but they could fight easier without all that armor on. They were quicker, more agile than the soldiers, too. Fear of getting themselves caught between and razor knife blade and a long broad sword sent the common-born men and women fleeing for safety. The man who had read the sentence and all the witnesses had fled also, afraid of the fury of the Rogue. It was a battle between the law and the lawbreakers as the sun dipped below the horizon.  
  
George bent down on one knee next to Nyah. Gently, he loosened the end of the noose that was still around her neck and slid it off. Nyah felt those comforting hands around her neck and her rebellious, brusque façade vanished in an instant. She let tears slip down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. For a moment, she felt like a silly little teenage girl whose big brother was protecting her from harm.  
  
"It's alright now," George whispered. "Come on." He lifted her up and slid one arm under her knees and the other supported her neck. She kept her arms around his neck, afraid that if she let go, he would disappear.  
  
"Majesty!" Marek yelled. George looked up to see his men starting to be cornered by Guards. They were beginning to wear down; for each man of the Rogue, there were two soldiers for him to contend with. Realizing the danger, George let out an ear piercing whistle and the twenty-five men with one limp girl in arm, turned and down the west side of Traitor's Hill. The Guards dared not pursue; there were too many of their number down for the count.  
  
George and his men mounted the horses they had waiting for them and he slid Nyah onto the front of his saddle. They rode hard and Nyah was fearful that the soldiers were pursuing them. Only when they were far away from the horrible Traitor' Hill, did she lean back against George for comfort. She said nothing, for no words would equal her thanks to this man, her brother.  
  
She expected to be lectured on how she should have never tried to risk her neck for him like that and how she almost had gotten herself killed trying to save him.  
  
However, George said simply, "Welcome back. Princess of the Rogue."  
  
1 THE BEGINNING  
  
A.N.: Well? Overall, would you guys said I did okay? I know that the whole exclamation Nyah makes in her trial is a little more modern than what people are used to in Tamora Pierce books but I couldn't think of a better way to express her strong feelings without having to cut her head off right there. (And you wouldn't want me to do that, now would you?)  
  
Anyway, the author, (that's me) would like to thank two people for helping me out. SultanaChick and Supergirl (Starlette) for reviewing and helping me through major writer's blockage. I have a sequel for this story called Quest for the Past. There's action, mystery, and little bit of romance! ; ) Also, if you ever want to e-mail or IM me, my address is catyliz2006@aol.com and my AOL screen name is catyliz2006. Thanks everyone! -"Max" 


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